THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


IN  MEMORY  OF 
MRS.  VIRGINIA  B.  SPORER 


SERGE  FAMINE 

(SERGE  CANINE) 
By   GEORGES   OHNET 

Crowned   by    the    French    Academy 


With  a  General  Introduction  to  the  Series 
by  GASTON  BOISSIFR,  Secretaire 
Perpetuel  dp  l'Aca<  ,  and 


•Z,  01  the  Frew  h  Academy 
[From  a  Photograph.} 


NEW  YORK 

Current  Literature  Publishing  Company 

1910 


• 

SERGE  FAMINE 

(SERGE  T>ANINE) 
By   GEORGES   OHNET 

Crowned   by    the    French    Academy 

With  a  Genera!  Introduction  to  the  Series 
by   GASTON    BOISSIER,   Secretaire 
Perpetuel  de  1'  Academic  Francaise,   and 
a   Preface    to   the    Novel    by  VICTOR 
CHERBULIEZ,  of  the  French  Academy 

NEW  YORK 

Current  Literature  Publishing  Company 

1910 

COPYRIGHT  1905 

BY 
ROBERT  ARNOT 

COPYRIGHT  1910 

BY 
CURRENT  LITERATURE  PUBLISHING  COMPANV 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 


editor-in-chief  of  the  Maison  Mazarin 
—  a  man  of  letters  who  cherishes  an  en- 
thusiastic yet  discriminating  love  for  the 
literary  and  artistic  glories  of  France  — 
formed  within  the  last  two  years  the  great 
project  of  collecting  and  presenting  to 
the  vast  numbers  of  intelligent  readers  of 
whom  the  New  World  boasts  a  series 
of  those  great  and  undying  romances  which,  since  1 784, 
have  received  the  crown  of  merit  awarded  by  the  French 
Academy — that  coveted  assurance  of  immortality  in  letters 
and  in  art. 

In  the  presentation  of  this  serious  enterprise  for  the  criti- 
cism and  official  sanction  of  The  Academy,  en  stance,  was 
included  a  request  that,  if  possible,  the  task  of  writing  a 
preface  to  the  series  should  be  undertaken  by  me.  Official 
sanction  having  been  bestowed  upon  the  plan,  I,  as  the 
accredited  officer  of  the  French  Academy,  convey  to  you 
its  hearty  appreciation,  endorsement,  and  sympathy  with  a 
project  so  nobly  artistic.  It  is  also  my  duty,  privilege,  and 
pleasure  to  point  out,  at  the  request  of  my  brethren,  the 
peculiar  importance  and  lasting  value  of  this  series  to  all 
who  would  know  the  inner  life  of  a  people  whose  great- 
ness no  turns  of  fortune  have  been  able  to  diminish. 
[v] 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

In  the  last  hundred  years  France  has  experienced  the 
most  terrible  vicissitudes,  but,  vanquished  or  victorious,  tri- 
umphant or  abased,  never  has  she  lost  her  peculiar  gift  of 
attracting  the  curiosity  of  the.  world.  She  interests  every 
living  being,  and  even  those  who  do  not  love  her  desire  to 
know  her.  To  this  peculiar  attraction  which  radiates  from 
her,  artists  and  men  of  letters  can  well  bear  witness,  since 
it  is  to  literature  and  to  the  arts,  before  all,  that  France 
owes  such  living  and  lasting  power.  In  every  quarter  of 
the  civilized  world  there  are  distinguished  writers,  painters, 
and  eminent  musicians,  but  in  France  they  exist  in  greater 
numbers  than  elsewhere.  Moreover,  it  is  universally  con- 
ceded that  French  writers  and  artists  have  this  particular 
and  praiseworthy  quality:  they  are  most  accessible  to  peo- 
ple of  other  countries.  Without  losing  their  national  char- 
acteristics, they  possess  the  happy  gift  of  universality.  To 
speak  of  letters  alone :  the  books  that  Frenchmen  write  are 
read,  translated,  dramatized,  and  imitated  everywhere ;  so 
it  is  not  strange  that  these  books  give  to  foreigners  a  desire 
for  a  nearer  and  more  intimate  acquaintance  with  France. 

Men  preserve  an  almost  innate  habit  of  resorting  to  Paris 
from  almost  every  quarter  of  the  globe.  For  many  years 
American  visitors  have  been  more  numerous  than  others, 
although  the  journey  from  the  United  States  is  long  and 
costly.  But  I  am  sure  that  when  for  the  first  time  they  see 
Paris — its  palaces,  its  churches,  its  museums — and  visit 
Versailles,  Fontainebleau,  and  Chantilly,  they  do  not  regret 
the  travail  they  have  undergone.  Meanwhile,  however,  I 
ask  myself  whether  such  sightseeing  is  all  that,  in  coming 
hither,  they  wish  to  accomplish.  Intelligent  travellers  — 
and,  as  a  rule,  it  is  the  intelligent  class  that  feels  the  need 
[vi] 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

of  the  educative  influence  of  travel — look  at  our  beautiful 
monuments,  wander  through  the  streets  and  squares  among 
the  crowds  that  fill  them,  and,  observing  them,  I  ask  myself 
again :  Do  not  such  people  desire  to  study  at  closer  range 
these  persons  who  elbow  them  as  they  pass ;  do  they  not 
wish  to  enter  the  houses  of  which  they  see  but  the  facades ; 
do  they  not  wish  to  know  how  Parisians  live  and  speak 
and  act  by  their  firesides  ?  But  time,  alas !  is  lacking  for 
the  formation  of  those  intimate  friendships  which  would 
bring  this  knowledge  within  their  grasp.  French  homes  are 
rarely  open  to  birds  of  passage,  and  visitors  leave  us  with 
regret  that  they  have  not  been  able  to  see  more  than  the 
surface  of  our  civilization  or  to  recognize  by  experience  the 
note  of  our  inner  home  life. 

How,  then,  shall  this  void  be  filled  ?  Speaking  in  the 
first  person,  the  simplest  means  appears  to  be  to  study  those 
whose  profession  it  is  to  describe  the  society  of  the  time, 
and  primarily,  therefore,  the  works  of  dramatic  writers,  who 
are  supposed  to  draw  a  faithful  picture  of  it.  So  we  go  to 
the  theatre,  and  usually  derive  keen  pleasure  therefrom.  But 
is  pleasure  all  that  we  expect  to  find  ?  What  we  should  look 
for  above  everything  in  a  comedy  or  a  drama  is  a  representa- 
tion, exact  as  possible,  of  the  manners  and  characters  of  the 
dramatis  persona  of  the  play ;  and  perhaps  the  conditions 
under  which  the  play  was  written  do  not  allow  such  repre- 
sentation. The  exact  and  studied  portrayal  of  a  character 
demands  from  the  author  long  preparation,  and  cannot  be 
accomplished  in  a  few  hours.  From  the  first  scene  to 
the  last,  each  fble  must  be  posed  in  the  author's  mind 
exactly  as  it  will  be  proved  to  be  at  the  end.  It  is  the 
author's  aim  and  mission  to  place  completely  before  his 
[viij 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

audience  the  souls  of  the  "  agonists  "  laying  bare  the  com- 
plications of  motive,  and  throwing  into  relief  the  delicate 
shades  of  motive  that  sway  them.  Often,  too,  the  play  is 
produced  before  a  numerous  audience — an  audience  often 
distrait,  always  pressed  for  time,  and  impatient  of  the  least 
delay.  Again,  the  public  in  general  require  that  they  shall 
be  able  to  understand  without  difficulty,  and  at  first  thought, 
the  characters  the  author  seeks  to  present,  making  it  neces- 
sary that  these  characters  be  depicted  from  their  most  salient 
sides — which  are  too  often  vulgar  and  unattractive. 

In  our  comedies  and  dramas  it  is  not  the  individual  that 
is  drawn,  but  the  type.  Where  the  individual  alone  is  real, 
the  type  is  a  myth  of  the  imagination — a  pure  invention. 
And  invention  is  the  mainspring  of  the  theatre,  which  rests 
purely  upon  illusion,  and  does  not  please  us  unless  it  begins 
by  deceiving  us. 

I  believe,  then,  that  if  one  seeks  to  know  the  world  ex- 
actly as  it  is,  the  theatre  does  not  furnish  the  means  whereby 
one  can  pursue  the  study.  A  far  better  opportunity  for 
knowing  the  private  life  of  a  people  is  available  through  the 
medium  of  its  great  novels.  The  novelist  deals  with  each 
person  as  an  individual.  He  speaks  to  his  reader  at  an 
hour  when  the  mind  is  disengaged  from  worldly  affairs, 
and  he  can  add  without  restraint  every  detail  that  seems 
needful  to  him  to  complete  the  rounding  of  his  story.  He 
can  return  at  will,  should  he  choose,  to  the  source  of  the 
plot  he  is  unfolding,  in  order  that  his  reader  may  better 
understand  him;  he  can  emphasize  and  dwell  upon  those 
details  which  an  audience  in  a  theatre  will  not  allow. 

The  reader,  being  at  leisure,  feels  no  impatience,  for  he 
knows  that  he  can  at  any  time  lay  down  or  take  up  the 
[viiij 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

book.  It  is  the  consciousness  of  this  privilege  that  gives 
him  patience,  should  he  encounter  a  dull  page  here  or 
there.  He  may  hasten  or  delay  his  reading,  according  to 
die  interest  he  takes  in  his  romance — nay,  more,  he  can 
return  to  the  earlier  pages,  should  he  need  to  do  so,  for  a 
better  comprehension  of  some  obscure  point.  In  propor- 
tion as  he  is  attracted  and  interested  by  the  romance,  and 
also  in  the  degree  of  concentration  with  which  he  reads  it, 
does  he  grasp  better  the  subtleties  of  the  narrative.  No  shade 
of  character  drawing  escapes  him.  He  realizes,  with  keener 
appreciation,  the  most  delicate  of  human  moods,  and  the 
novelist  is  not  compelled  to  introduce  the  characters  to  him, 
one  by  one,  distinguishing  them  only  by  the  most  general 
characteristics,  but  can  describe  each  of  those  little  individual 
idiosyncrasies  that  contribute  to  the  sum  total  of  a  living 
personality. 

When  I  add  that  the  dramatic  author  is  always  to  a  cer- 
tain extent  a  slave  to-  the  public,  and  must  ever  seek  to 
please  the  passing  taste  of  his  time,  it  will  be  recognized 
that  he  is  often,  alas!  compelled  to  sacrifice  his  artistic 
leanings  to  popular  caprice  —  that  is,  if  he  has  the  natural 
desire  that  his  generation  should  applaud  him. 

As  a  rule,  with  the  theatre-going  masses,  one  person  fol- 
lows the  fads  or  fancies  of  others,  and  individual  judgments 
are  too  apt  to  be  irresistibly  swayed  by  current  opinion. 
But  the  novelist,  entirely  independent  of  his  reader,  is  not 
compelled  to  conform  himself  to  the  opinion  of  any  person, 
or  to  submit  to  his  caprices.  He  is  absolutely  free  to  pic- 
ture society  as  he  sees  it,  and  we  therefore  can  have  more 
confidence  in  his  descriptions  of  the  customs  and  characters 
of  the  day. 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

It  is  precisely  this  view  of  the  case  that  the  editor  of 
the  series  has  taken,  and  herein  is  the  raison  d'etre  of 
this  collection  of  great  French  romances.  The  choice  was 
not  easy  to  make.  That  form  of  literature  called  the 
romance  abounds  with  us.  France  has  always  loved  it, 
for  French  writers  exhibit  a  curiosity — and  I  may  say  an 
indiscretion — that  is  almost  charming  in  the  study  of  cus- 
toms and  morals  at  large ;  a  quality  that  induces  them  to 
talk  freely  of  themselves  and  of  their  neighbors,  and  to  set 
forth  fearlessly  both  the  good  and  the  bad  in  human  nature. 
In  this  fascinating  phase  of  literature,  France  never  has 
produced  greater  examples  than  of  late  years. 

In  the  collection  here  presented  to  American  readers  will 
be  found  those  works  especially  which  reveal  the  intimate 
side  of  French  social  life — works  in  which  are  discussed 
the  moral  problems  that  affect  most  potently  the  life  of  the 
world  at  large.  If  inquiring  spirits  seek  to  learn  the  cus- 
toms and  manners  of  the  France  of  any  age,  they  must  look 
for  it  among  her  crowned  romances.  They  need  go  back 
no  farther  than  Ludovic  Halevy,  who  may  be  said  to  open 
the  modern  epoch.  In  the  romantic  school,  on  its  historic 
side,  Alfred  de  Vigny  must  be  looked  upon  as  supreme. 
De  Mussel  and  Anatole  France  may  be  taken  as  revealing 
authoritatively  the  moral  philosophy  of  nineteenth-century 
thought.  I  must  not  omit  to  mention  the  Jacqueline  of 
Th.  Bentzon,  and  the  "Attic "  Philosopher  of  Emile 
Souvestre,  nor  the  great  names  of  Loti,  Claretie,  Coppe"e, 
Bazin,  Bourget,  Malot,  Droz,  De  Massa,  and  last,  but  not 
least,  our  French  Dickens,  Alphonse  Daudet.  I  need  not 
add  more ;  the  very  names  of  these  "  Immortals  "  suffice  to 
commend  the  series  to  readers  in  all  countries. 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

One  word  in  conclusion :  America  may  rest  assured  that 
her  students  of  international  literature  will  find  in  this  series 
of  ouvrages  couronnes  all  that  they  may  wish  to  know  of 
France  at  her  own  fireside  —  a  knowledge  that  too  often 
escapes  them,  knowledge  that  embraces  not  only  a  faithful 
picture  of  contemporary  life  in  the  French  provinces,  but  a 
living  and  exact  description  of  French  society  in  modern 
times.  They  may  feel  certain  that  when  they  have  read 
these  romances,  they  will  have  sounded  the  depths  and 
penetrated  into  the  hidden  intimacies  of  France,  not  only 
as  she  is,  but  as  she  would  be  known. 


SECRETAIRE   PERPETUEL  DE 

L'ACADEMIE  FRANCAISE 


GEORGES  OHNET 

[E  only  French  novelist  whose  books 
have  a  circulation  approaching  the 
works  of  Daudet  and  of  Zola  is 
Georges  Ohnet,  a  writer  whose  popu- 
larity is  as  interesting  as  his  stories,  be- 
cause it  explains,  though  it  does  not 
excuse,  the  contempt  the  Goncourts 
had  for  the  favor  of  the  great  French 
public,  and  also  because  it  shows  how  the  highest  form 
of  Romanticism  still  ferments  beneath  the  varnish  of 
Naturalism  in  what  is  called  genius  among  the  great 
masses  of  readers. 

Georges  Ohnet  was  born  in  Paris,  April  3,  1848,  the 
son  of  an  architect.  He  was  destined  for  the  Bar,  but 
was  early  attracted  by  journalism  and  literature.  Being 
a  lawyer  it  was  not  difficult  for  him  to  join  the  editorial 
staff  of  Le  Pays,  and  later  Le  Constitutional.  This  was 
soon  after  the  Franco-German  War.  His  romances, 
since  collected  under  the  title  Batailles  de  la.  Vie,  ap- 
peared first  in  Le  Figaro,  L' Illustration,  and  Revue  des 
Deux  Mondes,  and  have  been  exceedingly  well  received 
by  the  public.  This  relates  also  to  his  dramas,  some  of 
his  works  meeting  with  a  popular  success  rarely  ex- 
tended to  any  author.  For  some  time  Georges  Ohnet 
did  not  find  the  same  favor  with  the  critics,  who  often 
attacked  him  with  a  passionate  violence  and  unusual 
[xiii] 


PREFACE 

severity.  True,  a  high  philosophical  flow  of  thoughts 
cannot  be  detected  in  his  writings,  but  nevertheless  it 
is  certain  that  the  characters  and  the  subjects  of  which 
he  treats  are  brilliantly  sketched  and  clearly  developed. 
They  are  likewise  of  perfect  morality  and  honesty. 

There  was  expected  of  him,  however,  an  idea  which 
was  not  quite  realized.  Appearing  upon  the  literary 
stage  at  a  period  when  Naturalism  was  triumphant,  it 
was  for  a  moment  believed  that  he  would  restore  Ideal- 
ism in  the  manner  of  George  Sand. 

In  any  case  the  hostile  critics  have  lost.  For  years 
public  opinion  has  exalted  him,  and  the  reaction  is  the 
more  significant  when  compared  with  the  tremendous 
criticism  launched  against  his  early  romances  and 
novels. 

A  list  of  his  works  follows:  Serge  Panine  (1881), 
crowned  by  the  French  Academy,  has  since  gone 
through  one  hundred  and  fifty  French  editions;  Le 
MaUre  des  Forges  (1882),  a  prodigious  success,  two 
hundred  and  fifty  editions  being  printed  (1900);  La 
Comtesse  Sarah  (1882),  Lise  Fleuron  (1884);  La  Grande 
Marnier e  (1886);  Les  Dames  de  Croix-Mort  (1886); 
Volontt  (1888);  Le  Docteur  Rameau  (1889);  Dernier 
Amour  (1889);  LeCure  de  Favieres  (1890);  Dette  de 
Haine  (1891);  Nemrod  et  Cie.  (1892);  Le  Lendemain 
des  Amours  (1893);  Le  Droit  de  I'Enjant  (1894);  Les 
Vielles  Rancunes  (1894);  La  Dame  en  Gris  (1895); 
La  Fille  du  Depute  (1896);  Le  Roi  de  Paris  (1898);  Au 
Fond  du  Gouffre  (1899);  Gens  de  la  Noce  (1900);  La 
Tenebreuse  (1900);  Le  Crasseur  dj  Affaires  (1901); 
Le  Cripuscule  (1901)  ;  Le  Marche  a  V Amour  (1902). 
[xiv] 


PREFACE 

Ohnet's  novels  are  collected  under  the  titles,  Noir  et 
Rose  (1887)  and  L'Ame  de  Pierre  (1890). 

The  dramatic  writings  of  Georges  Ohnet,  mostly 
taken  from  his  novels,  have  greatly  contributed  to  his 
reputation.  Le  Matire  des  Forges  was  played  for  a  full 
year  (Gymnase,  1883) ;  it  was  followed  by  Serge  Panine 
(1884);  La  Comtesse  Sarah  (1887).  La  Grande  Mar- 
nier e  (1888),  met  also  with  a  decided  and  prolonged 
success;  Dernier  Amour  (Gymnase,  1890);  Colonel 
Roquebrune  (Porte  St.  Martin,  1897).  Before  that  he 
had  already  written  the  plays  Regina  Sarpi  (1875)  and 
Marthe  (1877),  which  yet  hold  a  prominent  place  upon 
the  French  stage. 

I  have  shown  in  this  rapid  sketch  that  a  man  of  the 
stamp  of  Georges  Ohnet  must  have  immortal  qualities 
in  himself,  even  though  flayed  and  roasted  alive  by  the 
critics.  He  is  most  assuredly  an  artist  in  form,  is 
endowed  with  a  brilliant  style,  and  has  been  named 
"  L'Historiographe  de  la  bourgeoise  contemporaine." 
Indeed,  antagonism  to  plutocracy  and  hatred  of  aris- 
tocracy are  the  fundamental  theses  in  almost  every  one 
of  his  books. 

His  exposition,  I  repeat,  is  startlingly  neat,  the  de- 
velopment of  his  plots  absolutely  logical,  and  the  world 
has  acclaimed  his  ingenuity  in  dramatic  construction. 
He  is  truly,  and  in  all  senses,  of  the  Ages. 


de  I'Acaddmie  Frangaise 
[xv] 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I 

FADE 

THE  HOUSE  OF  DESVARENNES i 

CHAPTER  II 
THE  GALLEY-SLAVE  OF  PLEASURE 20 

CHAPTER  III 
PIERRE  RETURNS 35 

CHAPTER  IV 
THE  RIVALS 51 

CHAPTER  V 
A  CRITICAL  INTERVIEW .64 

CHAPTER  VI 
A  SIGNIFICANT  MEETING 74 

CHAPTER  VII 
JEANNE'S  SECRET  , .90 

CHAPTER  VIII 
A  PLEASANT  UNDERSTANDING   .........  102 

CHAPTER  IX 
THE  DOUBLE  MARRIAGE      .....     t     ,,..  116 

CHAPTER   X 
CAYROL'S  DISAPPOINTMENT  ....,,.,..134 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XI 

PAGE 

CONFESSION 145 

CHAPTER  XH 
THE  FfirE iS4 

CHAPTER  Xin 
THE  FIRST  BREAK 161 

CHAPTER  XIV 
A  SUDDEN  JOURNEY 183 

CHAPTER  XV 
MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER 200 

CHAPTER  XVI 
THE  TELLTALE  Kiss 215 

CHAPTER  XVH 
CAYROL  is  BLIND 227 

CHAPTER  XVni 
THE  UNIVERSAL  CREDIT  COMPANY 239 

CHAPTER  XIX 
SIN  GROWS  BOLDER 263 

CHAPTER  XX 
THE  CRISIS 281 

CHAPTER  XXI 
"WmtN  ROGUES  FALL  OUT" 289 

CHAPTER  XXII 
THE  MOTHER'S  REVENGE t  .  303 

[  xviii  ] 


SERGE   PANINE 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  HOUSE  OF  DESVARENNES 

[E  firm  of  Desvarennes  has  been  in 
an  ancient  mansion  in  the  Rue  Saint- 
Dominique  since  1875;  it  is  one  of 
the  best  known  and  most  important 
in  French  industry.  The  counting- 
houses  are  in  the  wings  of  the  building 
looking  upon  the  courtyard,  which 
were  occupied  by  the  servants  when 
the  family  whose  coat-of-arms  has  been  effaced  from 
above  the  gate-way  were  still  owners  of  the  estate. 
Madame  Desvarennes  inhabits  the  mansion  which  she 
has  had  magnificently  renovated.  A  formidable  rival 
of  the  Darblays,  the  great  millers  of  France,  the  firm  of 
Desvarennes  is  a  commercial  and  political  power.  In- 
quire in  Paris  about  its  solvency,  and  you  will  be  told 
that  you  may  safely  advance  twenty  millions  of  francs 
on  the  signature  of  the  head  of  the  firm.  And  this  head 
is  a  woman. 

This  woman  is  remarkable.  Gifted  with  keen  under- 
standing and  a  firm  will,  she  had  in  former  times  vowed 
to  make  a  large  fortune,  and  she  has  kept  her  word. 


GEORGES  OHNET 

She  was  the  daughter  of  a  humble  packer  of  the  Rue 
Neuve-Coquenard.  Toward  1848  she  married  Michel 
Desvarennes,  who  was  then  a  journeyman  baker  in  a 
large  shop  in  the  Chaussee  d'Antin.  With  the  thousand 
francs  which  the  packer  managed  to  give  his  daughter 
by  way  of  dowry,  the  young  couple  boldly  took  a  shop 
and  started  a  little  bakery  business.  The  husband 
kneaded  and  baked  the  bread,  and  the  young  wife, 
seated  at  the  counter,  kept  watch  over  the  till.  Neither 
on  Sundays  nor  on  holidays  was  the  shop  shut. 

Through  the  window,  between  two  pyramids  of  pink 
and  blue  packets  of  biscuits,  one  could  always  catch 
sight  of  the  serious-looking  Madame  Desvarennes,  knit- 
ting woollen  stockings  for  her  husband  while  waiting 
for  customers.  With  her  prominent  forehead,  and  her 
eyes  always  bent  on  her  work,  this  woman  appeared  the 
living  image  of  perseverance. 

At  the  end  of  five  years  of  incessant  work,  and  pos- 
sessing twenty  thousand  francs,  saved  sou  by  sou,  the 
Desvarennes  left  the  slopes  of  Montmartre,  and  moved 
to  the  centre  of  Paris.  They  were  ambitious  and  full  of 
confidence.  They  set  up  in  the  Rue  Vivienne,  in  a  shop 
resplendent  with  gilding  and  ornamented  with  looking- 
glasses.  The  ceiling  was  painted  in  panels  with  bright 
hued  pictures  that  caught  the  eyes  of  the  passers-by. 
The  window-shelves  were  of  white  marble,  and  the 
counter,  where  Madame  Desvarennes  was  still  en- 
throned, was  of  a  width  worthy  of  the  receipts  that 
were  taken  every  day.  Business  increased  daily;  the 
Desvarennes  continued  to  be  hard  and  systematic  work- 
ers. The  class  of  customers  alone  had  changed ;  they 
[2] 


SERGE  PANINE 

were  more  numerous  and  richer.  The  house  had  a 
specialty  for  making  small  rolls  for  the  restaurants. 
Michel  had  learned  from  the  Viennese  bakers  how  to 
make  those  golden  balls  which  tempt  the  most  rebel- 
lious appetite,  and  which,  when  in  an  artistically  folded 
damask  napkin,  set  off  a  dinner-table. 

About  this  time  Madame  Desvarennes,  while  calcu- 
lating how  much  the  millers  must  gain  on  the  flour  they 
sell  to  the  bakers,  resolved,  in  order  to  lessen  expenses, 
to  do  without  middlemen  and  grind  her  own  corn. 
Michel,  naturally  timid,  was  frightened  when  his  wife 
disclosed  to  him  the  simple  project  which  she  had  formed. 
Accustomed  to  submit  to  the  will  of  her  whom  he  re- 
spectfully called  "the  mistress,"  and  of  whom  he  was 
but  the  head  clerk,  he  dared  not  oppose  her.  But,  a  red- 
tapist  by  nature,  and  hating  innovations,  owing  to  weak- 
ness of  mind,  he  trembled  inwardly  and  cried  in  agony: 

"Wife,  you'll  ruin  us." 

The  mistress  calmed  the  poor  man's  alarm;  she 
tried  to  impart  to  him  some  of  her  confidence,  to  ani- 
mate him  with  her  hope,  but  without  success,  so  she 
went  on  without  him.  A  mill  was  for  sale  at  Jouy,  on 
the  banks  of  the  Oise ;  she  paid  ready  money  for  it,  and 
a  few  weeks  later  the  bakery  in  the  Rue  Vivienne  was 
independent  of  every  one.  She  ground  her  own  flour, 
and  from  that  time  business  increased  considerably. 
Feeling  capable  of  carrying  out  large  undertakings,  and, 
moreover,  desirous  of  giving  up  the  meannesses  of  re- 
tail trade,  Madame  Desvarennes,  one  fine  day,  sent  in 
a  tender  for  supplying  bread  to  the  military  hospitals. 
It  was  accepted,  and  from  that  time  the  house  ranked 


GEORGES  OHNET 

among  the  most  important.  On  seeing  the  Desvarennes 
take  their  daring  flight,  the  leading  men  in  the  trade 
had  said: 

"They  have  system  and  activity,  and  if  they  do  not 
upset  on  the  way,  they  will  attain  a  high  position." 

But  the  mistress  seemed  to  have  the  gift  of  divina- 
tion. She  worked  surely — if  she  struck  out  one  way 
you  might  be  certain  that  success  was  there.  In  all  her 
enterprises,  "good  luck"  stood  close  by  her;  she  scented 
failures  from  afar,  and  the  firm  never  made  a  bad  debt. 
Still  Michel  continued  to  tremble.  The  first  mill  had 
been  followed  by  many  more;  then  the  old  system  ap- 
peared insufficient  to  Madame  Desvarennes.  As  she 
wished  to  keep  up  with  the  increase  of  business  she  had 
steam-mills  built,  which  are  now  grinding  three  hun- 
dred million  francs'  worth  of  corn  every  year. 

Fortune  had  favored  the  house  immensely,  but  Michel 
continued  to  tremble.  From  time  to  time  when  the 
mistress  launched  out  a  new  business,  he  timidly  vent- 
ured on  his  usual  saying: 

"Wife,  you're  going  to  ruin  us." 

But  one  felt  it  was  only  for  form's  sake,  and  that  he 
himself  no  longer  meant  what  he  said.  Madame  Des- 
varennes received  this  plaintive  remonstrance  with  a 
calm  smile,  and  answered,  maternally,  as  to  a  child: 

"There,  there,  don't  be  frightened." 

Then  she  would  set  to  work  again,  and  direct  with 
irresistible  vigor  the  army  of  clerks  who  peopled  her 
counting-houses. 

In  fifteen  years'  time,  by  prodigious  efforts  of  will 
and  energy,  Madame  Desvarennes  had  made  her  way 
[41 


SERGE  PANINE 

from  the  lonely  and  muddy  Rue  Neuve-Coquenard  to 
the  mansion  in  the  Rue  Saint-Dominique.  Of  the  bak- 
e"y  there  was  no  longer  question.  It  was  some  time 
since  the  business  in  the  Rue  Vivienne  had  been  trans- 
ferred to  the  foreman  of  the  shop.  The  flour  trade 
alone  occupied  Madame  Desvarennes's  attention.  She 
ruled  the  prices  in  the  market;  and  great  bankers  came 
to  her  office  and  did  business  with  her  on  a  footing  of 
equality.  She  did  not  become  any  prouder  for  it,  she 
knew  too  well  the  strength  and  weakness  of  life  to  have 
pride;  her  former  plain  dealing  had  not  stiffened  into 
self-sufficiency.  Such  as  one  had  known  her  when 
beginning  business,  such  one  found  her  in  the  zenith  of 
her  fortune.  Instead  of  a  woollen  gown  she  wore  a  silk 
one,  but  the  color  was  still  black ;  her  language  had  not 
become  refined;  she  retained  the  same  blunt  familiar 
accent,  and  at  the  end  of  five  minutes'  conversation 
with  any  one  of  importance  she  could  not  resist  calling 
him  "my  dear,"  to  come  morally  near  him.  Her  com- 
mands had  more  fulness.  In  giving  her  orders,  she  had 
the  manner  of  a  commander-in-chief ,  and  it  was  useless 
to  haggle  when  she  had  spoken.  The  best  thing  to  do 
was  to  obey,  as  well  and  as  promptly  as  possible. 

Placed  in  a  political  sphere,  this  marvellously  gifted 
woman  would  have  been  a  Madame  Roland;  born  to 
the  throne,  she  would  have  been  a  Catherine  II. ;  there 
was  genius  in  her.  Sprung  from  the  lower  ranks,  her  su- 
periority had  given  her  wealth;  had  she  come  from  the 
higher,  the  great  mind  might  have  governed  the  world. 

Still  she  was  not  happy ;  she  had  been  married  fifteen 
years,  and  her  fireside  was  devoid  of  a  cradle.  During 

is] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

the  first  years  she  had  rejoiced  at  not  having  a  child. 
Where  could  she  have  found  time  to  occupy  herself 
with  a  baby?  Business  engrossed  her  attention;  she 
had  no  leisure  to  amuse  herself  with  trifles.  Maternity 
seemed  to  her  a  luxury  for  rich  women;  she  had  her 
fortune  to  make.  In  the  struggle  against  the  difficulties 
attending  the  enterprise  she  had  begun,  she  had  not 
had  time  to  look  around  her  and  perceive  that  her  home 
was  lonely.  She  worked  from  morning  till  night.  Her 
whole  life  was  absorbed  in  this  work,  and  when  night 
came,  overcome  with  fatigue,  she  fell  asleep,  her  head 
filled  with  cares  which  stifled  all  tricks  of  the  imagi- 
nation. 

Michel  grieved,  but  in  silence;  his  feeble  and  de- 
pendent nature  missed  a  child.  He,  whose  mind  lacked 
occupation,  thought  of  the  future.  He  said  to  himself 
that  the  day  when  the  dreamt-of  fortune  came  would 
be  more  welcome  if  there  were  an  heir  to  whom  to  leave 
it.  What  was  the  good  of  being  rich,  if  the  money  went 
to  collateral  relatives?  There  was  his  nephew  Savi- 
nien,  a  disagreeable  urchin  whom  he  looked  on  with  in- 
difference; and  he  was  biassed  regarding  his  brother, 
who  had  all  but  failed  several  times  in  business,  and  to 
whose  aid  he  had  come  to  save  the  honor  of  the  name. 
The  mistress  had  not  hesitated  to  help  him,  and  had 
prevented  the  signature  of  "Desvarennes"  being  pro- 
tested. She  had  not  taunted  him,  having  as  large  a 
heart  as  she  had  a  mind.  But  Michel  had  felt  humil- 
iated to  see  his  own  folk  make  a  gap  in  the  financial 
edifice  erected  so  laboriously  by  his  wife.  Out  of  this 
had  gradually  sprung  a  sense  of  dissatisfaction  with  the 
[6] 


SERGE  PANINE 

Desvarennes  of  the  other  branch,  which  manifested  it- 
self by  a  marked  coolness,  when,  by  chance,  his  brother 
came  to  the  house,  accompanied  by  his  son  Savinien. 

And  then  the  paternity  of  his  brother  made  him 
secretly  jealous.  Why  should  that  incapable  fellow, 
who  succeeded  in  nothing,  have  a  son  Pit  was  only  those 
ne'er-do-well  sort  of  people  who  were  thus  favored.  He, 
Michel,  already  called  the  rich  Desvarennes,  he  had  not 
a  son.  Was  it  just?  But  where  is  there  justice  in  this 
world  ? 

The  first  time  that  she  saw  him  with  a  downcast  face 
the  mistress  had  questioned  him,  and  he  had  frankly 
expressed  his  regrets.  But  he  had  been  so  repelled  by 
his  wife,  in  whose  heart  a  great  trouble,  steadily  re- 
pressed, however,  had  been  produced,  that  he  never 
dared  to  recur  to  the  subject. 

He  suffered  in  silence.  But  he  no  longer  suffered 
alone.  Like  an  overflowing  river  that  finds  an  outlet  in 
the  valley,  which  it  inundates,  the  longings  for  mater- 
nity, hitherto  repressed  by  the  preoccupations  of  busi- 
ness, had  suddenly  seized  Madame  Desvarennes. 

Strong  and  unyielding,  she  struggled  and  would  not 
own  herself  conquered.  Still  she  became  sad.  Her 
voice  sounded  less  sonorously  in  the  offices  where  she 
gave  an  order;  her  energetic  nature  seemed  subdued. 
Now  she  looked  around  her.  She  beheld  prosperity 
made  stable  by  incessant  work,  respect  gained  by  spot- 
less honesty;  she  had  attained  the  goal  which  she  had 
marked  out  in  her  ambitious  dreams,  as  being  paradise 
itself.  Paradise  was  there;  but  it  lacked  the  angel. 
They  had  no  child. 

[7] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

From  that  day  a  change  came  over  this  woman,  slowly 
but  surely;  scarcely  perceptible  to  strangers,  but  easy 
to  be  seen  by  those  around  her.  She  became  benevo- 
lent, and  gave  away  considerable  sums  of  money,  es- 
pecially to  children's  "Homes."  But  when  the  good 
people  who  governed  these  establishments,  lured  on  by 
her  generosity,  came  to  ask  her  to  be  on  their  committee 
of  management,  she  became  angry,  asking  them  if  they 
were  joking  with  her  ?  What  interest  could  those  brats 
have  for  her  ?  She  had  other  fish  to  fry.  She  gave  them 
what  they  needed,  and  what  more  could  they  want? 
The  fact  was  she  felt  weak  and  troubled  before  chil- 
dren. But  within  her  a  powerful  and  unknown  voice 
had  arisen,  and  the  hour  was  not  far  distant  when  the 
bitter  wave  of  her  regrets  was  to  overflow  and  be  made 
manifest. 

She  did  not  like  Savinien,  her  nephew,  and  kept  all  her 
sweetness  for  the  son  of  one  of  their  old  neighbors  in  the 
Rue  Neuve-Coquenard,  a  small  haberdasher,  who  had 
not  been  able  to  get  on,  but  continued  humbly  to  sell 
thread  and  needles  to  the  thrifty  folks  of  the  neighbor- 
hood. The  haberdasher,  Mother  Delarue,  as  she  was 
called,  had  remained  a  widow  after  one  year  of  married 
life.  Pierre,  her  boy,  had  grown  up  under  the  shadow 
of  the  bakery,  the  cradle  of  the  Desvarennes's  fortunes. 

On  Sundays  the  mistress  would  give  him  a  ginger- 
bread or  a  cracknel,  and  amuse  herself  with  his  baby 
prattle.  She  did  not  lose  sight  of  him  when  she  re- 
moved to  the  Rue  Vivienne.  Pierre  had  entered  the 
elementary  school  of  the  neighborhood,  and  by  his  pre- 
cocious intelligence  and  exceptional  application,  had 
[8] 


SERGE  PANINE 

not  been  long  in  getting  to  the  top  of  his  class.  The  boy 
had  left  school  after  gaming  an  exhibition  admitting 
him  to  the  Chaptal  College.  This  hard  worker,  who 
was  in  a  fair  way  of  making  his  own  position  without 
costing  his  relatives  anything,  greatly  interested  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes.  She  found  in  this  plucky  nature 
a  striking  analogy  to  herself.  She  formed  projects  for 
Pierre's  future;  in  fancy  she  saw  him  enter  the  Poly- 
technic school,  and  leave  it  with  honors.  The  young 
man  had  the  choice  of  becoming  a  mining  or  civil  en- 
gineer, and  of  entering  the  government  service. 

He  was  hesitating  what  to  do  when  the  mistress  came 
and  offered  him  a  situation  in  her  firm  as  junior  part- 
ner; it  was  a  golden  bridge  that  she  placed  before  him. 
With  his  exceptional  capacities  he  was  not  long  in  giving 
to  the  house  a  new  impulse.  He  perfected  the  machin- 
ery, and  triumphantly  defied  all  competition.  All  this 
was  a  happy  dream  in  which  Pierre  was  to  her  a  real  son ; 
her  home  became  his,  and  she  monopolized  him  com- 
pletely. But  suddenly  a  shadow  came  o'er  the  spirit  of 
her  dreams.  Pierre's  mother,  the  little  haberdasher, 
proud  of  her  son,  would  she  consent  to  give  him  up  to 
a  stranger?  Oh!  if  Pierre  had  only  been  an  orphan! 
But  one  could  not  rob  a  mother  of  her  son !  And  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes  stopped  the  flight  of  her  imagination. 
She  followed  Pierre  with  anxious  looks;  but  she  for- 
bade herself  to  dispose  of  the  youth:  he  did  not  belong 
to  her. 

This  woman,  at  the  age  of  thirty-five,  still  young  in 
heart,  was  disturbed  by  feelings  which  she  strove,  but 
vainly,  to  rule.  She  hid  them  especially  from  her  hus- 
[9] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

band,  whose  repining  chattering  she  feared.  If  she 
had  once  shown  him  her  weakness  he  would  have  over- 
whelmed her  daily  with  the  burden  of  his  regrets.  But 
an  unforeseen  circumstance  placed  her  at  Michel's 
mercy. 

Winter  had  come,  bringing  December  and  its  snow. 
The  weather  this  year  was  exceptionally  inclement, 
and  traffic  in  the  streets  was  so  difficult,  business  was 
almost  suspended.  The  mistress  left  her  deserted  of- 
fices and  retired  early  to  her  private  apartments.  The 
husband  and  wife  spent  their  evenings  alone.  They 
sat  there,  facing  each  other,  at  the  fireside.  A  shade 
concentrated  the  light  of  the  lamp  upon  the  table  cov- 
ered with  expensive  knick-knacks.  The  ceiling  was 
sometimes  vaguely  lighted  up  by  a  glimmer  from  the 
stove  which  glittered  on  the  gilt  cornices.  Ensconced 
in  deep  comfortable  armchairs,  the  pair  respectively 
caressed  their  favorite  dream  without  speaking  of  it. 

Madame  Desvarennes  saw  beside  her  a  little  pink- 
and-white  baby  girl,  toddling  on  the  carpet.  She  heard 
her  words,  understood  her  language,  untranslatable  to 
all  others  than  a  mother.  Then  bedtime  came.  The 
child,  with  heavy  eyelids,  let  her  little  fair-haired  head 
fall  on  her  shoulders.  Madame  Desvarennes  took  her 
in  her  arms  and  undressed  her  quietly,  kissing  her  bare 
and  dimpled  arms.  It  was  exquisite  enjoyment  which 
stirred  her  heart  deliciously.  She  saw  the  cradle,  and 
devoured  the  child  with  her  eyes.  She  knew  that  the 
picture  was  a  myth.  But  what  did  it  matter  to  her? 
She  was  happy.  Michel's  voice  broke  on  her  reverie. 

"Wife,"  said  he,  "this  is  Christmas  Eve;   and  as 

[10] 


SERGE  PANINE 

there  are  only  us  two,  suppose  you  put  your  slipper  on 
the  hearth." 

Madame  Desvarennes  rose.  Her  eyes  vaguely  turned 
toward  the  hearth  on  which  the  fire  was  dying,  and  be- 
side the  upright  of  the  large  sculptured  mantelpiece  she 
beheld  for  a  moment  a  tiny  shoe,  belonging  to  the  child 
which  she  loved  to  see  in  her  dreams.  Then  the  vision 
vanished,  and  there  was  nothing  left  but  the  lonely 
hearth.  A  sharp  pain  tore  her  swollen  heart;  a  sob 
rose  to  her  lips,  and,  slowly,  two  tears  rolled  down  her 
cheeks.  Michel,  quite  pale,  looked  at  her  in  silence; 
he  held  out  his  hand  to  her,  and  said,  in  a  trembling 
voice: 

"You  were  thinking  about  it,  eh?" 

Madame  Desvarennes  bowed  her  head,  twice,  si- 
lently, and  without  adding  another  word,  the  pair  fell 
into  each  other's  arms  and  wept. 

From  that  day  they  hid  nothing  from  each  other,  and 
shared  their  troubles  and  regrets  in  common.  The 
mistress  unburdened  her  heart  by  making  a  full  con- 
fession, and  Michel,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  learned 
the  depth  of  soul  of  his  companion  to  its  inmost  recesses. 
This  woman,  so  energetic,  so  obstinate,  was,  as  it  were, 
broken  down.  The  springs  of  her  will  seemed  worn 
out.  She  felt  despondencies  and  wearinesses  until  then 
unknown.  Work  tired  her.  She  did  not  venture  down 
to  the  offices;  she  talked  of  giving  up  business,  which 
was  a  bad  sign.  She  longed  for  country  air.  Were  they 
not  rich  enough?  With  their  simple  tastes  so  much 
money  was  unnecessary.  In  fact,  they  had  no  wants. 
They  would  go  to  some  pretty  estate  in  the  suburbs  of 


GEORGES  OHNET 

Paris,  live  there  and  plant  cabbages.  Why  work  ?  they 
had  no  children. 

Michel  agreed  to  these  schemes.  For  a  long  time  he 
had  wished  for  repose.  Often  he  had  feared  that  his 
wife's  ambition  would  lead  them  too  far.  But  now, 
since  she  stopped  of  her  own  accord,  it  was  all  for  the 
best. 

At  this  juncture  their  solicitor  informed  them  that, 
near  to  their  works,  the  Cernay  estate  was  to  be  put  up 
for  sale.  Very  often,  when  going  from  Jouy  to  the  mills, 
Madame  Desvarennes  had  noticed  the  chateau,  the 
slate  roofs  of  the  turrets  of  which  rose  gracefully  from 
a  mass  of  deep  verdure.  The  Count  de  Cernay,  the  last 
representative  of  a  noble  race,  had  just  died  of  con- 
sumption, brought  on  by  reckless  living,  leaving  noth- 
ing behind  him  but  debts  and  a  little  girl  two  years  old. 
Her  mother,  an  Italian  singer  and  his  mistress,  had  left 
him  one  morning  without  troubling  herself  about  the 
child.  Everything  was  to  be  sold,  by  order  of  the 
Court. 

Some  most  lamentable  incidents  had  saddened  the 
Count's  last  hours.  The  bailiffs  had  entered  the  house 
with  the  doctor  when  he  came  to  pay  his  last  call,  and 
the  notices  of  the  sale  were  all  but  posted  up  before  the 
funeral  was  over.  Jeanne,  the  orphan,  scared  amid  the 
troubles  of  this  wretched  end,  seeing  unknown  men 
walking  into  the  reception-rooms  with  their  hats  on, 
hearing  strangers  speaking  loudly  and  with  arrogance, 
had  taken  refuge  in  the  laundry.  It  was  there  that 
Madame  Desvarennes  found  her,  playing,  plainly 
dressed  in  a  little  alpaca  frock,  her  pretty  hair  loose  and 

[12] 


SERGE  PANINE 

falling  on  her  shoulders.  She  looked  astonished  at  what 
she  had  seen;  silent,  not  daring  to  run  or  sing  as  for- 
merly in  the  great  desolate  house  whence  the  master 
had  just  been  taken  away  forever. 

With  the  vague  instinct  of  abandoned  children  who 
seek  to  attach  themselves  to  some  one  or  some  thing, 
Jeanne  clung  to  Madame  Desvarennes,  who,  ready  to 
protect,  and  longing  for  maternity,  took  the  child  in 
her  arms.  The  gardener's  wife  acted  as  guide  during 
her  visit  over  the  property.  Madame  Desvarennes 
questioned  her.  She  knew  nothing  of  the  child  except 
what  she  had  heard  from  the  servants  when  they  gos- 
siped in  the  evenings  about  their  late  master.  They 
said  Jeanne  was  a  bastard.  Of  her  relatives  they  knew 
nothing.  The  Count  had  an  aunt  in  England  who  was 
married  to  a  rich  lord;  but  he  had  not  corresponded 
with  her  lately.  The  little  one  then  was  reduced  to  beg- 
gary as  the  estate  was  to  be  sold. 

The  gardener's  wife  was  a  good  woman  and  was  will- 
ing to  keep  the  child  until  the  new  proprietor  came; 
but  when  once  affairs  were  settled,  she  would  certainly 
go  and  make  a  declaration  to  the  mayor,  and  take  her 
to  the  workhouse.  Madame  Desvarennes  listened  in 
silence.  One  word  only  had  struck  her  while  the  woman 
was  speaking.  The  child  was  without  support,  without 
ties,  and  abandoned  like  a  poor  lost  dog.  The  little  one 
was  pretty  too ;  and  when  she  fixed  her  large  deep  eyes 
on  that  improvised  mother,  who  pressed  her  so  tenderly 
to  her  heart,  she  seemed  to  implore  her  not  to  put  her 
down,  and  to  carry  her  away  from  the  mourning  that 
troubled  her  mind  and  the  isolation  that  froze  her  heart. 
[13] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

Madame  Desvarennes,  very  superstitious,  like  a 
woman  of  the  people,  began  to  think  that,  perhaps, 
Providence  had  brought  her  to  Cernay  that  day  and 
had  placed  the  child  in  her  path.  It  was  perhaps  a  rep- 
aration which  heaven  granted  her,  in  giving  h^r  the  little 
girl  she  so  longed  for.  Acting  unhesitatingly,  as  she  did 
in  everything,  she  left  her  name  with  the  woman,  car- 
ried Jeanne  to  her  carriage,  and  took  her  to  Paris,  prom- 
ising herself  to  make  inquiries  to  find  her  relatives. 

A  month  later,  the  property  of  Cernay  pleasing  her, 
and  the  researches  for  Jeanne's  friends  not  proving  suc- 
cessful, Madame  Desvarennes  took  possession  of  the 
estate  and  the  child  into  the  bargain. 

Michel  welcomed  the  child  without  enthusiasm.  The 
little  stranger  was  indifferent  to  him;  he  would  have 
preferred  adopting  a  boy.  The  mistress  was  delighted. 
Her  maternal  instincts,  so  long  stifled,  developed  fully. 
She  made  plans  for  the  future.  Her  energy  returned; 
she  spoke  loudly  and  firmly.  But  in  her  appearance 
there  was  revealed  an  inward  contentment  never  re- 
marked before,  which  made  her  sweeter  and  more  be- 
nevolent. She  no  longer  spoke  of  retiring  from  busi- 
ness. The  discouragement  which  had  seized  her  left 
her  as  if  by  magic.  The  house  which  had  been  so  dull 
for  some  months  became  noisy  and  gay.  The  child, 
like  a  sunbeam,  had  scattered  the  clouds. 

It  was  then  that  the  most  unlooked-for  phenomenon, 
which  was  so  considerably  to  influence  Madame  Des- 
varennes's  life,  occurred.  At  the  moment  when  the 
mistress  seemed  provided  by  chance  with  the  heiress  so 
much  longed  for,  she  learned  with  surprise  that  she  was 


SERGE  PANINE 

about  to  become  a  mother!  After  sixteen  years  of  mar- 
ried life,  this  discovery  was  almost  a  discomfiture. 
What  would  have  been  delight  formerly  was  now  a 
cause  for  fear.  She,  almost  an  old  woman! 

There  was  an  incredible  commotion  in  the  business 
world  when  the  news  became  known.  The  younger 
branch  of  Desvarennes  had  witnessed  Jeanne's  arrival 
with  little  satisfaction,  and  were  still  more  gloomy  when 
they  learned  that  the  chances  of  their  succeeding  to 
great  wealth  were  over.  Still  they  did  not  lose  all  hopes. 
At  thirty-five  years  of  age  one  cannot  always  tell  how 
these  little  affairs  will  come  off.  An  accident  was  pos- 
sible. But  none  occurred ;  all  passed  off  well. 

Madame  Desvarennes  was  as  strong  physically  as 
she  was  morally,  and  proved  victorious  by  bringing  into 
the  world  a  little  girl,  who  was  named  Micheline  in 
honor  of  her  father.  The  mistress's  heart  was  large 
enough  to  hold  two  children;  she  kept  the  orphan  she 
had  adopted,  and  brought  her  up  as  if  she  had  been  her 
very  own.  Still  there  was  soon  an  enormous  difference 
in  her  manner  of  loving  Jeanne  and  Micheline.  This 
mother  had  for  the  long-wished-for  child  an  ardent, 
mad,  passionate  love  like  that  of  a  tigress  for  her  cubs. 
She  had  never  loved  her  husband.  All  the  tenderness 
which  had  accumulated  in  her  heart  blossomed,  and  it 
was  like  spring. 

This  autocrat,  who  had  never  allowed  contradiction, 
and  before  whom  all  her  dependents  bowed  either  with 
or  against  the  grain,  was  now  led  in  her  turn;  the 
bronze  of  her  character  became  like  wax  in  the  little 
pink  hands  of  her  daughter.  The  commanding  woman 
[153  ' 


GEORGES  OHNET 

bent  before  the  little  fair  head.  There  was  nothing 
good  enough  for  Micheline.  Had  the  mother  owned  the 
world  she  would  have  placed  it  at  the  little  one's  feet. 
One  tear  from  the  child  upset  her.  If  on  one  of  the 
most  important  subjects  Madame  Desvarennes  had 
said  "No,"  and  Micheline  came  and  said  "Yes,"  the 
hitherto  resolute  will  became  subordinate  to  the  caprice 
of  a  child.  They  knew  it  in  the  house  and  acted  upon 
it.  This  manoeuvre  succeeded  each  time,  although 
Madame  Desvarennes  had  seen  through  it  from  the 
first.  It  appeared  as  if  the  mother  felt  a  secret  joy  in 
proving  under  all  circumstances  the  unbounded  adora- 
tion which  she  felt  for  her  daughter.  She  often  said : 

"Pretty  as  she  is,  and  rich  as  I  shall  make  her,  what 
husband  will  be  worthy  of  Micheline?  But  if  she  be- 
lieves me  when  it  is  time  to  choose  one,  she  will  prefer  a 
man  remarkable  for  his  intelligence,  and  will  give  him 
her  fortune  as  a  stepping-stone  to  raise  him  as  high  as 
she  chooses  him  to  go." 

Inwardly  she  was  thinking  of  Pierre  Delarue,  who 
had  just  taken  honors  at  the  Polytechnic  school,  and 
who  seemed  to  have  a  brilliant  career  before  him.  This 
woman,  humbly  born,  was  proud  of  her  origin,  and 
sought  a  plebeian  for  her  son-in-law,  to  put  into  his 
hand  a  golden  tool  powerful  enough  to  move  the  world. 

Micheline  was  ten  years  old  when  her  father  died. 
Alas,  Michel  was  not  a  great  loss.  They  wore  mourn- 
ing for  him;  but  they  hardly  noticed  that  he  was  absent. 
His  whole  life  had  been  a  void.  Madame  Desvarennes, 
it  is  sad  to  say,  felt  herself  more  mistress  of  her  child 
when  she  was  a  widow.  She  was  jealous  of  Micheline's 
[16] 


SERGE  PANINE 

affections,  and  each  kiss  the  child  gave  her  father  seemed 
to  the  mother  to  be  robbed  from  her.  With  this  fierce 
tenderness,  she  preferred  solitude  around  this  beloved 
being. 

At  this  time  Madame  Desvarennes  was  really  in  the 
zenith  of  womanly  splendor.  She  seemed  taller,  her 
figure  had  straightened,  vigorous  and  powerful.  Her 
gray  hair  gave  her  face  a  majestic  appearance.  Al- 
ways surrounded  by  a  court  of  clients  and  friends,  she 
seemed  like  a  sovereign.  The  fortune  of  the  firm  was 
not  to  be  computed.  It  was  said  Madame  Desvarennes 
did  not  know  how  rich  she  was. 

Jeanne  and  Micheline  grew  up  amid  this  colossal 
prosperity.  The  one,  tall,  brown-haired,  with  blue  eyes 
changing  like  the  sea;  the  other,  fragile,  fair,  with  dark 
dreamy  eyes.  Jeanne,  proud,  capricious,  and  incon- 
stant; Micheline,  simple,  sweet,  and  tenacious.  The 
brunette  inherited  from  her  reckless  father  and  her 
fanciful  mother  a  violent  and  passionate  nature;  the 
blonde  was  tractable  and  good  like  Michel,  but  reso- 
lute and  firm  like  Madame  Desvarennes.  These  two 
opposite  natures  were  congenial,  Micheline  sincerely 
loving  Jeanne,  and  Jeanne  feeling  the  necessity  of  liv- 
ing amicably  with  Micheline,  her  mother's  idol,  but 
inwardly  enduring  with  difficulty  the  inequalities  which 
began  to  exhibit  themselves  in  the  manner  with  which 
the  intimates  of  the  house  treated  the  one  and  the 
other.  She  found  these  flatteries  wounding,  and  thought 
Madame  Desvarennes's  preferences  for  Micheline  un- 
just. 

All  these  accumulated  grievances  made  Jeanne  con- 

2  [17] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

ceive  the  wish  one  morning  of  leaving  the  house  where 
she  had  been  brought  up,  and  where  she  now  felt  hu- 
miliated. Pretending  to  long  to  go  to  England  to  see 
that  rich  relative  of  her  father,  who,  knowing  her  to  be 
in  a  brilliant  society,  had  taken  notice  of  her,  she 
asked  Madame  Desvarennes  to  allow  her  to  spend  a 
few  weeks  from  home.  She  wished  to  try  the  ground 
in  England,  and  see  what  she  might  expect  in  the  future 
from  her  family.  Madame  Desvarennes  lent  herself  to 
this  whim,  not  guessing  the  young  girl's  real  motive; 
and  Jeanne,  well  attended,  went  to  her  aunt's  home  in 
England. 

Madame  Desvarennes,  besides,  had  attained  the 
summit  of  her  hopes,  and  an  event  had  just  taken  place 
which  preoccupied  her.  Micheline,  deferring  to  her 
mother's  wishes,  had  decided  to  allow  herself  to  be  be- 
trothed to  Pierre  Delarue,  who  had  just  lost  his  mother, 
and  whose  business  improved  daily.  The  young  girl, 
accustomed  to  treat  Pierre  like  a  brother,  had  easily 
consented  to  accept  him  as  her  future  husband. 

Jeanne,  who  had  been  away  for  six  months,  had  re- 
turned sobered  and  disillusioned  about  her  family.  She 
had  found  them  kind  and  affable,  had  received  many 
compliments  on  her  beauty,  which  was  really  remark- 
able, but  had  not  met  with  any  encouragement  in  her 
desires  for  independence.  She  came  home  resolved  not 
to  leave  until  she  married.  She  arrived  in  the  Rue 
Saint-Dominique  at  the  moment  when  Pierre  Delarue, 
thirsting  with  ambition,  was  leaving  his  betrothed,  his 
relatives,  and  gay  Paris  to  undertake  engineering  work 
on  the  coasts  of  Algeria  and  Tunis  that  would  raise 
[18] 


SERGE  PANINE 

him  above  his  rivals.  In  leaving,  the  young  man  did 
not  for  a  moment  think  that  Jeanne  was  returning 
from  England  at  the  same  hour  with  trouble  for  him  in 
the  person  of  a  very  handsome  cavalier,  Prince  Serge 
Panine,  who  had  been  introduced  to  her  at  a  ball  during 
the  London  season.  Mademoiselle  de  Cernay,  availing 
herself  of  English  liberty,  was  returning  escorted  only 
by  a  maid  in  company  with  the  Prince.  The  journey  had 
been  delightful.  The  tete-a-tete  travelling  had  pleased 
the  young  people,  and  on  leaving  the  train  they  had 
promised  to  see  each  other  again.  Official  balls  facili- 
tated their  meeting;  Serge  was  introduced  to  Madame 
Desvarennes  as  being  an  English  friend,  and  soon  be- 
came the  most  assiduous  partner  of  Jeanne  and  Mi- 
cheline.  It  was  thus,  under  the  most  trivial  pretext,  that 
the  man  gained  admittance  to  the  house  where  he  was 
to  play  such  an  important  part. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  GALLEY-SLAVE  OF  PLEASURE 

NE  morning  in  the  month  of  May, 
1879,  a  young  man,  elegantly  attired, 
alighted  from  a  well-appointed  carriage 
before  the  door  of  Madame  Des- 
varennes's  house.  The  young  man 
passed  quickly  before  the  porter  in  uni- 
form, decorated  with  a  military  medal, 
stationed  near  the  door.  The  visitor 
found  himself  in  an  anteroom  which  communicated 
with  several  corridors.  A  messenger  was  seated  in  the 
depth  of  a  large  armchair,  reading  the  newspaper,  and 
not  even  lending  an  inattentive  ear  to  the  whispered 
conversation  of  a  dozen  canvassers,  who  were  patiently 
awaiting  their  turn  for  gaining  a  hearing.  On  seeing 
the  young  man  enter  by  the  private  door,  the  messenger 
rose,  dropped  his  newspaper  on  the  armchair,  hastily 
raised  his  velvet  skullcap,  tried  to  smile,  and  made  two 
steps  forward. 

"Good-morning,  old  Felix,"  said  the  young  man,  in 
a  friendly  tone  to  the  messenger.  ' '  Is  my  aunt  within  ? ' ' 
"Yes,  Monsieur  Savinien,  Madame  Desvarennes  is 
in  her  office;  but  she  has  been  engaged  for  more  than 
an  hour  with  the  Financial  Secretary  of  the  War  De 
partment." 

[20] 


SERGE  PANINE 

In  uttering  these  words  old  Felix  put  on  a  mysterious 
and  important  air,  which  denoted  how  serious  the  dis- 
cussions going  on  in  the  adjoining  room  seemed  to  his 
mind. 

"You  see,"  continued  he,  showing  Madame  Des- 
varennes's  nephew  the  anteroom  full  of  people,  "ma- 
dame  has  kept  all  these  waiting  since  this  morning,  and 
perhaps  she  won't  see  them." 

"I  must  see  her  though,"  murmured  the  young  man. 

He  reflected  a  moment,  then  added : 

"Is  Monsieur  Marshal  in?" 

"Yes,  sir,  certainly.  If  you  will  allow  me  I  will  an- 
nounce you." 

"It  is  unnecessary." 

And,  stepping  forward,  he  entered  the  office  adjoin- 
ing that  of  Madame  Desvarennes. 

Seated  at  a  large  table  of  black  wood,  covered  with 
bundles  of  papers  and  notes,  a  young  man  was  working. 
He  was  thirty  years  of  age,  but  appeared  much  older. 
His  prematurely  bald  forehead,  and  wrinkled  brow, 
betokened  a  life  of  severe  struggles  and  privations,  or  a 
life  of  excesses  and  pleasures.  Still  those  clear  and  pure 
eyes  were  not  those  of  a  libertine,  and  the  straight  nose 
solidly  joined  to  the  face  was  that  of  a  searcher.  What- 
ever the  cause,  the  man  was  old  before  his  time. 

On  hearing  the  door  of  his  office  open,  he  raised  his 
eyes,  put  down  his  pen,  and  was  making  a  movement 
toward  his  visitor,  when  the  latter  interrupted  him 
quickly  with  these  words : 

"Don't  stir,  Marechal,  or  I  shall  be  off!  I  only  came 
in  until  Aunt  Desvarennes  is  at  liberty;  but  if  I  disturb 


GEORGES  OHNET 

you  I  will  go  and  take  a  turn,  smoke  a  cigar,  and  come 
back  in  three  quarters  of  an  hour." 

"You  do  not  disturb  me,  Monsieur  Savinien;  at 
least  not  often  enough,  for  be  it  said,  without  reproach- 
ing you,  it  is  more  than  three  months  since  we  have  seen 
anything  of  you.  There,  the  post  is  finished.  I  was 
writing  the  last  addresses." 

And  taking  a  heavy  bundle  of  papers  off  the  desk, 
Marechal  showed  them  to  Savinien. 

"Gracious!  It  seems  that  business  is  going  on  well 
here." 

"Better  and  better." 

"You  are  making  mountains  of  flour." 

"Yes;  high  as  Mont  Blanc ;  and  then,  we  now  have  a 
fleet." 

"What!  a  fleet?"  cried  Savinien,  whose  face  ex- 
pressed doubt  and  surprise  at  the  same  time. 

"Yes,  a  steam  fleet.  Last  year  Madame  Desva- 
rennes  was  not  satisfied  with  the  state  in  which  her  corn 
came  from  the  East.  The  corn  was  damaged  owing  to 
defective  stowage ;  the  firm  claimed  compensation  from 
the  steamship  company.  The  claim  was  only  moder- 
ately satisfied,  Madame  Desvarennes  got  vexed,  and 
now  we  import  our  own.  We  have  branches  at  Smyrna 
and  Odessa." 

"It  is  fabulous!  If  it  goes  on,  my  aunt  will  have  an 
administration  as  important  as  that  of  a  European 
state.  Oh!  you  are  happy  here,  you  people;  you  are 
busy.  I  amuse  myself!  And  if  you  knew  how  it  wearies 
me!  I  am  withering,  consuming  myself,  I  am  longing 
for  business." 

[22] 


SERGE  PANINE 

And  saying  these  words,  young  Monsieur  Desva- 
rennes  allowed  a  sorrowful  moan  to  escape  him. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  Marshal,  "that  it  only  de- 
pends upon  yourself  to  do  as  much  and  more  business 
than  any  one?" 

"You  know  well  enough  that  it  is  not  so,"  sighed  Sa- 
vinien;  "my  aunt  is  opposed  to  it." 

"What  a  mistake!"  cried  Marechal,  quickly.  "1 
have  heard  Madame  Desvarennes  say  more  than 
twenty  times  how  she  regretted  your  being  unemployed. 
Come  into  the  firm,  you  will  have  a  good  berth  in  the 
counting-house." 

"In  the  counting-house!"  cried  Savinien,  bitterly; 
"there's  the  sore  point.  Now  look  here,  my  friend,  do 
you  think  that  an  organization  like  mine  is  made  to 
bend  to  the  trivialities  of  a  copying  clerk's  work  ?  To 
follow  the  humdrum  of  every-day  routine  ?  To  blacken 
paper?  To  become  a  servant? — me!  with  what  I  have 
in  my  brain?" 

And,  rising  abruptly,  Savinien  began  to  walk  hur- 
riedly up  and  down  the  room,  disdainfully  shaking  his 
little  head  with  its  low  forehead  on  which  were  plas- 
tered a  few  fair  curls  (made  with  curling-irons),  with 
the  indignant  air  of  an  Atlas  carrying  the  world  on 
his  shoulders. 

"Oh,  I  know  very  well  what  is  at  the  bottom  of  the 
business — my  aunt  is  jealous  of  me  because  I  am  a 
man  of  ideas.  She  wishes  to  be  the  only  one  of  the  fam- 
ily who  possesses  any.  She  thinks  of  binding  me  down 
to  a  besotting  work,"  continued  he,  "but  I  won't  have 
it.  I  know  what  I  want !  It  is  independence  of  thought, 
[23] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

bent  on  the  solution  of  great  problems — that  is,  a  wide 
field  to  apply  my  discoveries.  But  a  fixed  rule,  com- 
mon law,  I  could  not  submit  to  it." 

"It  is  like  the  examinations,"  observed  Mare*chal, 
looking  slyly  at  young  Desvarennes,  who  was  drawing 
himself  up  to  his  full  height;  "examinations  never 
suited  you." 

"Never,"  said  Savinien, energetically.  "They  wished 
to  get  me  into  the  Polytechnic  School;  impossible! 
Then  the  Central  School;  no  better.  I  astonished  the 
examiners  by  the  novelty  of  my  ideas.  They  refused  me. " 

"Well,  you  know,"  retorted  Marechal,  "if  you  began 
by  overthrowing  their  theories " 

"That's  it!"  cried  Savinien,  triumphantly.  "My 
mind  is  stronger  than  I ;  I  must  let  my  imagination  have 
free  run,  and  no  one  will  ever  know  what  that  partic- 
ular turn  of  mind  has  cost  me.  Even  my  family  do  not 
think  me  serious.  Aunt  Desvarennes  has  forbidden  any 
kind  of  enterprise,  under  pretence  that  I  bear  her  name, 
and  that  I  might  compromise  it  because  I  have  twice 
failed.  My  aunt  paid,  it  is  true.  Do  you  think  it  is 
generous  of  her  to  take  advantage  of  my  situation,  and 
prohibit  my  trying  to  succeed?  Are  inventors  judged 
by  three  or  four  failures  ?  If  my  aunt  had  allowed  me 
I  should  have  astonished  the  world." 

"She  feared,  above  all,"  said  Marechal,  simply,  "to 
see  you  astonishing  the  Tribunal  of  Commerce." 

"Oh!  you,  too,"  moaned  Savinien,  "are  in  league 
with  my  enemies;  you  make  no  account  of  me." 

And  young  Desvarennes  sank  as  if  crushed  into  an 
armchair  and  began  to  lament.  He  was  very  unhappy 
[24] 


SERGE  PANINE 

at  being  misunderstood.  His  aunt  allowed  him  three 
thousand  francs  a  month  on  condition  that  he  would 
not  make  use  of  his  ten  fingers.  Was  it  moral  ?  Then 
he  with  such  exuberant  vigor  had  to  waste  it  on  pleas- 
ure and  seeing  life  to  the  utmost.  He  passed  his  time 
in  theatres,  at  clubs,  restaurants,  in  boudoirs.  He  lost 
his  time,  his  money,  his  hair,  his  illusions.  He  be- 
moaned his  lot,  but  continued,  only  to  have  something 
to  do.  With  grim  sarcasm  he  called  himself  the  galley- 
slave  of  pleasure.  And  notwithstanding  all  these  con- 
suming excesses,  he  asserted  that  he  could  not  render 
his  imagination  barren.  Amid  the  greatest  follies — at 
suppers,  during  the  clinking  of  glasses,  in  the  excite- 
ment of  the  dance — inspirations  came  to  him  in  flashes, 
he  made  prodigious  discoveries. 

And  as  Mare'chal  ventured  a  timid  "Oh!"  tinged 
with  incredulity,  Savinien  flew  into  a  passion.  Yes;  he 
had  invented  something  astonishing;  he  saw  fortune 
within  reach,  and  he  thought  the  bargain  made  with  his 
aunt  very  unjust.  Therefore  he  had  come  to  break  it, 
and  to  regain  his  liberty. 

Mare'chal  looked  at  the  young  man  while  he  was  ex- 
plaining with  animation  his  ambitious  projects.  He 
scrutinized  that  flat  forehead  within  which  the  dandy 
asserted  so  many  good  ideas  were  hidden.  He  meas- 
ured that  slim  form  bent  by  wild  living,  and  asked  him- 
self how  that  degenerate  being  could  struggle  against 
the  difficulties  of  business.  A  smile  played  on  his  lips. 
He  knew  Savinien  too  well  not  to  be  aware  that  he  was 
a  prey  to  one  of  those  attacks  of  melancholy  which  seized 
on  him  when  his  funds  were  low. 

[•si 


GEORGES  OHNET 

On  these  occasions,  which  occurred  frequently,  the 
young  man  had  longings  for  business,  which  Madame 
Desvarennes  stopped  by  asking:  "How  much?"  Sa- 
vinien  allowed  himself  to  be  with  difficulty  induced  to 
consent  to  renounce  the  certain  profits  promised,  as  he 
said,  by  his  projected  enterprise.  At  last  he  would 
capitulate,  and  with  his  pocket  well  lined,  nimble  and 
joyful,  he  returned  to  his  boudoirs,  race-courses,  fash- 
ionable restaurants,  and  became  more  than  ever  the 
galley-slave  of  pleasure. 

"And  Pierre?"  asked  young  Desvarennes,  suddenly 
and  quickly  changing  the  subject.  "Have  you  any 
news  of  him?" 

Marechal  became  serious.  A  cloud  seemed  to  have 
come  across  his  brow;  he  gravely  answered  Savinien's 
question.  t 

Pierre  was  still  in  the  East.  He  was  travelling  toward 
Tunis,  the  coast  of  which  he  was  exploring.  It  was  a 
question  of  the  formation  of  an  island  sea  by  taking  the 
water  through  the  desert.  It  would  be  a  colossal  un- 
dertaking, the  results  of  which  would  be  considerable 
as  regarded  Algeria.  The  climate  would  be  completely 
changed,  and  the  value  of  the  colony  would  be  increased 
tenfold,  because  it  would  become  the  most  fertile  coun- 
try in  the  world.  Pierre  had  been  occupied  in  this  un- 
dertaking for  more  than  a  year  with  unequalled  ardor; 
he  was  far  from  his  home,  his  betrothed,  seeing  only  the 
goal  to  be  attained ;  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  all  that  would 
distract  his  attention  from  the  great  work,  to  the  suc- 
cess of  which  he  hoped  to  contribute  gloriously. 

"And  don't  people  say,"  resumed  Savinien  with  an 
[26] 


SERGE  PANINE 

evil  smile,  "that  during  his  absence  a  dashing  young 
fellow  is  busy  luring  his  betrothed  away  from  him?" 

At  these  words  Mar6chal  made  a  quick  movement. 

"It  is  false,"  he  interrupted;  "and  I  do  not  under- 
stand how  you,  Monsieur  Desvarennes,  should  be  the 
bearer  of  such  a  tale.  To  admit  that  Mademoiselle 
Micheline  could  break  her  word  or  her  engagements  is 
to  slander  her,  and  if  any  one  other  than  you " 

"There,  there,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Savinien,  laugh- 
ing, "don't  get  into  a  rage.  What  I  say  to  you  I  would 
not  repeat  to  the  first  comer;  besides,  I  am  only  the 
echo  of  a  rumor  that  has  been  going  the  round  during 
the  last  three  weeks.  They  even  give  the  name  of 
him  who  has  been  chosen  for  the  honor  and  pleasure 
of  Luch  a  brilliant  conquest.  I  mean  Prince  Serge 
Panine." 

"As  you  have  mentioned  Prince  Panine,"  replied 
Marechal,  "allow  me  to  tell  you  that  he  has  not  put  his 
foot  inside  Madame  Desvarennes' s  door  for  three  weeks. 
This  is  not  the  way  of  a  man  about  to  marry  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  house." 

"My  dear  fellow,  I  only  repeat  what  I  have  heard. 
As  for  me,  I  don't  know  any  more.  I  have  kept  out  of 
the  way  for  more  than  three  months.  And  besides,  it 
matters  little  to  me  whether  Micheline  be  a  commoner 
or  a  princess,  the  wife  of  Delarue  or  of  Panine.  I  shall 
be  none  the  richer  or  the  poorer,  shall  I  ?  Therefore  I 
need  not  care.  The  dear  child  will  certainly  have  mill- 
ions enough  to  marry  easily.  And  her  adopted  sister, 
the  stately  Mademoiselle  Jeanne,  what  has  become  of 
her?" 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"Ah!  as  to  Mademoiselle  de  Cernay,  that  is  another 
affair,"  cried  Marechal. 

And  as  if  wishing  to  divert  the  conversation  in  an 
opposite  direction  to  which  Savinien  had  led  it  a  mo- 
ment before,  he  spoke  readily  of  Madame  Desvarennes's 
adopted  daughter.  She  had  made  a  lively  impression 
on  one  of  the  intimate  friends  of  the  house — the  banker 
Cayrol,  who  had  offered  his  name  and  his  fortune  to 
the  fair  Jeanne. 

This  was  a  cause  of  deep  amazement  to  Savinien. 
What!  Cayrol!  The  shrewd  close-fisted  Auvergnat! 
A  girl  without  a  fortune!  Cayrol  Silex  as  he  was  called 
in  the  commercial  world  on  account  of  his  hardness. 
This  living  money-bag  had  a  heart  then!  It  was  neces- 
sary to  believe  it  since  both  money-bag  and  heart  had 
been  placed  at  Mademoiselle  de  Cernay's  feet.  This 
strange  girl  was  certainly  destined  to  millions.  She  had 
just  missed  being  Madame  Desvarennes's  heiress,  and 
now  Cayrol  had  taken  it  into  his  head  to  marry  her. 

But  that  was  not  all.  And  when  Mare*chal  told  Sa- 
vinien that  the  fair  Jeanne  flatly  refused  to  become  the 
wife  of  Cayrol,  there  was  an  outburst  of  joyful  exclama- 
tions. She  refused!  By  Jove,  she  was  mad!  An  un- 
looked-for marriage — for  she  had  not  a  penny,  and  had 
most  extravagant  notions.  She  had  been  brought  up  as 
if  she  were  to  live  always  in  velvet  and  silks — to  loll  in 
carriages  and  think  only  of  her  pleasure.  What  reason 
did  she  give  for  refusing  him!  None.  Haughtily  and 
disdainfully  she  had  declared  that  she  did  not  love  "  that 
man,"  and  that  she  would  not  marry  him. 

When  Savinien  heard  these  details  his  rapture  in- 
[28] 


SERGE  PANINE 

creased.  One  thing  especially  charmed  him:  Jeanne's 
saying  "that  man,"  when  speaking  of  Cayrol.  A  little 
girl  who  was  called  "De  Cernay"  just  as  he  might  call 
himself  "Des  Batignolles"  if  he  pleased:  the  natural 
and  unacknowledged  daughter  of  a  Count  and  of  a 
shady  public  singer!  And  she  refused  Cayrol,  calling 
him  that  man."  It  was  really  funny.  And  what  did 
worthy  Cayrol  say  about  it  ? 

When  Mare'chal  declared  that  the  banker  had  not 
been  damped  by  this  discouraging  reception,  Savinien 
said  it  was  human  nature.  The  fair  Jeanne  scorned 
Cayrol  and  Cayrol  adored  her.  He  had  often  seen 
those  things  happen.  He  knew  the  baggages  so  well! 
Nobody  knew  more  of  women  than  he  did.  He  had 
known  some  more  difficult  to  manage  than  proud  Ma- 
demoiselle Jeanne. 

An  old  leaven  of  hatred  had  festered  in  Savinien' s 
heart  against  Jeanne  since  the  time  when  the  younger 
branch  of  the  Desvarennes  had  reason  to  fear  that  the 
superb  heritage  was  going  to  the  adopted  daughter. 
Savinien  had  lost  the  fear,  but  had  kept  up  the  animos- 
ity. And  everything  that  could  happen  to  Jeanne  of  a 
vexing  or  painful  nature  would  be  witnessed  by  him 
with  pleasure. 

He  was  about  to  encourage  Marechal  to  continue  his 
revelations,  and  had  risen  and  was  leaning  on  the  desk. 
With  his  face  excited  and  eager,  he  was  preparing  his 
question,  when,  through  the  door  which  led  to  Madame 
Desvarennes's  office,  a  confused  murmur  of  voices  was 
heard.  At  the  same  time  the  door  was  half  opened, 
held  by  a  woman's  hand,  square,  with  short  fingers,  a 
[29] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

firm- willed  and  energetic  hand.  At  the  same  time,  the 
last  words  exchanged  between  Madame  Desvarennes 
and  the  Financial  Secretary  of  the  War  Office  were  dis- 
tinctly audible.  Madame  Desvarennes  was  speaking, 
and  her  voice  sounded  clear  and  plain;  a  little  raised 
and  vibrating.  There  seemed  a  shade  of  anger  in  its 
tone. 

"My  dear  sir,  you  will  tell  the  Minister  that  does  not 
suit  me.  It  is  not  the  custom  of  the  house.  For  thirty- 
five  years  I  have  conducted  business  thus,  and  I  have 
always  found  it  answer.  I  wish  you  good-morning." 

The  door  of  the  office  facing  that  which  Madame 
Desvarennes  held  closed,  and  a  light  step  glided  along 
the  corridor.  It  was  the  Financial  Secretary's.  The 
mistress  appeared. 

Marechal  rose  hastily.  As  to  Savinien,  all  his  reso- 
lution seemed  to  have  vanished  at  the  sound  of  his  aunt's 
voice,  for  he  had  rapidly  gained  a  corner  of  the  room, 
and  seated  himself  on  a  leather-covered  sofa,  hidden 
behind  an  armchair,  where  he  remained  perfectly  quiet. 

"Do  you  understand  that,  Marechal?"  said  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes;  "they  want  to  place  a  resident  agent 
at  the  mill  on  pretext  of  checking  things.  They  say  that 
all  military  contractors  are  obliged  to  submit  to  it.  My 
word,  do  they  take  us  for  thieves,  the  rascals?  It  is  the 
first  time  that  people  have  seemed  to  doubt  me.  And  it 
has  enraged  me.  I  have  been  arguing  for  a  whole 
hour  with  the  man  they  sent  me.  I  said  to  him,  'My 
dear  sir,  you  may  either  take  it  or  leave  it.  Let  us  start 
from  this  point:  I  can  do  without  you  and  you  cannot 
do  without  me.  If  you  don't  buy  my  flour,  somebody 
[30] 


SERGE  PANINE 

else  will.  I  am  not  at  all  troubled  about  it.  But  as  to 
having  any  one  here  who  would  be  as  much  master  as 
myself,  or  perhaps  more,  never!  I  am  too  old  to  change 
my  customs.'  Thereupon  the  Financial  Secretary  left. 
There!  And,  besides,  they  change  their  Ministry  every 
fortnight.  One  would  never  know  with  whom  one  had 
to  deal.  Thank  you,  no." 

While  talking  thus  with  Mare"chal,  Madame  Des- 
varennes  was  walking  about  the  office.  She  was  still 
the  same  woman  with  the  broad  prominent  forehead. 
Her  hair,  which  she  wore  in  smooth  plaits,  had  become 
gray,  but  the  sparkle  of  her  dark  eyes  only  seemed  the 
brighter  from  this.  She  had  preserved  her  splendid 
teeth,  and  her  smile  had  remained  young  and  charm- 
ing. She  spoke  with  animation,  as  usual,  and  with  the 
gestures  of  a  man.  She  placed  herself  before  her  secre- 
tary, seeming  to  appeal  to  him  as  a  witness  of  her  being 
in  the  right.  During  the  hour  with  the  official  person- 
age she  had  been  obliged  to  contain  herself.  She  un- 
burdened herself  to  Marechal,  saying  just  what  she 
thought. 

But  all  at  once  she  perceived  Savinien,  who  was  wait- 
ing to  show  himself  now  that  she  had  finished.  The 
mistress  turned  sharply  to  the  young  man,  and  frowned 
slightly: 

"Hallo!  you  are  there,  eh?  How  is  it  that  you  could 
leave  your  fair  friends?" 

"But,  aunt,  I  came  to  pay  you  my  respects." 

"No  nonsense  now;  I've  no  time,"  interrupted  the 
mistress.  "  What  do  you  want  ?" 

Savinien,  disconcerted  by  this  rude  reception,  blinked 


GEORGES  OHNET 

his  eyes,  as  if  seeking  some  form  to  give  his  request; 
then,  making  up  his  mind,  he  said : 

"I  came  to  see  you  on  business." 

"You  on  business?"  replied  Madame  Desvarennes, 
with  a  shade  of  astonishment  and  irony. 

"Yes,  aunt,  on  business,"  declared  Savinien,  looking 
down  as  if  he  expected  a  rebuff. 

"Oh,  oh,  oh!"  said  Madame  Desvarennes,  "you 
know  our  agreement;  I  give  you  an  allowance " 

"I  renounce  my  income,"  interrupted  Savinien, 
quickly,  "I  wish  to  take  back  my  independence.  The 
transfer  I  made  has  already  cost  me  too  dear.  It's  a 
fool's  bargain.  The  enterprise  which  I  am  going  to 
launch  is  superb,  and  must  realize  immense  profits.  I 
shall  certainly  not  abandon  it." 

While  speaking,  Savinien  had  become  animated  and 
had  regained  his  self-possession.  He  believed  in  his 
scheme,  and  was  ready  to  pledge  his  future.  He  argued 
that  his  aunt  could  not  blame  him  for  giving  proof  of 
his  energy  and  daring,  and  he  discoursed  in  bombastic 
style. 

"That's  enough!"  cried  Madame  Desvarennes,  in- 
terrupting her  nephew's  oration.  "I  am  very  fond  of 
mills,  but  not  word-mills.  You  are  talking  too  much 
about  it  to  be  sincere.  So  many  words  can  only  serve  to 
disguise  the  nullity  of  your  projects.  You  want  to  em- 
bark in  speculation?  With  what  money?" 

"I  contribute  the  scheme  and  some  capitalists  will 
advance  the  money  to  start  with;  we  shall  then  issue 
shares!" 

"Never  in  this  life!  I  oppose  it,  You!  With  a  re- 
[3*] 


SERGE  PANINE 

sponsibility.  You!  Directing  an  undertaking.  You 
would  only  commit  absurdities.  In  fact,  you  want  to 
sell  an  idea,  eh?  Well,  I  will  buy  it." 

"It  is  not  only  the  money  I  want,"  said  Savinien,  with 
an  indignant  air,  "it  is  confidence  in  my  ideas,  it  is  en- 
thusiasm on  the  part  of  my  shareholders,  it  is  success. 
You  don't  believe  in  my  ideas,  aunt!" 

"  What  does  it  matter  to  you,  if  I  buy  them  from  you  ? 
It  seems  to  me  a  pretty  good  proof  of  confidence.  Is 
that  settled?" 

"Ah,  aunt,  you  are  implacable!"  groaned  Savinien. 
"When  you  have  laid  your  hand  upon  any  one,  it  is  all 
over.  Adieu,  independence;  one  must  obey  you.  Nev- 
ertheless, it  was  a  vast  and  beautiful  conception." 

"Very  well.  Mare*chal,  see  that  my  nephew  has  ten 
thousand  francs.  And  you,  Savinien,  remember  that  I 
see  no  more  of  you." 

"Until  the  money  is  spent!"  murmured  Mare*chal,  in 
the  ear  of  Madame  Desvarennes's  nephew. 

And  taking  him  by  the  arm  he  was  leading  him  to- 
ward the  safe  when  the  mistress  turned  to  Savinien  and 
said: 

"By  the  way,  what  is  your  invention?" 

"Aunt,  it  is  a  threshing  machine,"  answered  the 
young  man,  gravely. 

"Rather  a  machine  for  coining  money,"  said  the  in- 
corrigible Marechal,  in  an  undertone. 

"Well,  bring  me  your  plans,"  resumed  Madame  Des- 
varennes,  after  having  reflected  a  moment.  "Perchance 
you  may  have  hit  upon  something." 

The  mistress  had  been  generous,  and  now  the  woman 
3  [33] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

of  business  reasserted  herself  and  she  thought  of  reap- 
ing the  benefit. 

Savinien  seemed  very  confused  at  this. demand,  and  as 
his  aunt  gave  him  an  interrogative  look,  he  confessed : 

"There  are  no  drawings  made  as  yet." 

"No  drawings  as  yet?"  cried  the  mistress.  "Where 
then  is  your  invention?" 

"It  is  here,"  replied  Savinien,  and  with  an  inspired 
gesture  he  struck  his  narrow  forehead. 

Madame  Desvarennes  and  Marechal  could  not  resist 
breaking  out  into  a  laugh. 

"And  you  were  already  talking  of  issuing  shares ?" 
said  the  mistress.  "Do  you  think  people  would  have 
paid  their  money  with  your  brain  as  sole  guarantee? 
You!  Get  along;  I  am  the  only  one  to  make  bargains 
like  that,  and  you  are  the  only  one  with  whom  I  make 
them.  Go,  Marechal,  give  him  his  money;  I  won't 
gainsay  it.  But  you  are  a  trickster,  as  usual!" 


[34] 


CHAPTER  III 

PIERRE  RETURNS 

a  wave  of  her  hand  she  dismissed 
Savinien,  who,  abashed,  went  out  with 
Marechal.  Left  alone,  she  seated  her- 
self at  her  secretary's  desk,  and  ta- 
king the  pile  of  letters  she  signed 
them.  The  pen  flew  in  her  fingers, 
and  on  the  paper  was  displayed  her 
name,  written  in  large  letters  in  a 
man's  handwriting. 

She  had  been  occupied  thus  for  about  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  when  Marechal  reappeared.    Behind  him  came  a 
stout  thick-set  man  of  heavy  build,  and  gorgeously 
dressed.    His  face,  surrounded  by  a  bristly  dark  brown 
beard,  and  his  eyes  overhung  by  bushy  eyebrows,  gave 
him,  at  the  first  glance,  a  harsh  appearance.    But  his 
mouth  promptly  banished  this  impression.    His  thick 
and  sensual  lips  betrayed  voluptuous  tastes.    A  disciple 
of  Lavater  or  Gall  would  have  found  the  bump  of  ama- 
tiveness  largely  developed. 
Marechal  stepped  aside  to  allow  him  to  pass. 
"Good-morning,  mistress,"  said  he  familiarly,  ap- 
proaching Madame  Desvarennes. 
The  mistress  raised  her  head  quickly,  and  said : 
"Ah!  it's  you,  Cayrol!    That's  capital!    I  was  Just 
going  to  send  for  you." 

[35] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

Jean  Cayrol,  a  native  of  Cantal,  had  been  brought  up 
amid  the  wild  mountains  of  Auvergne.  His  father 
was  a  small  farmer  in  the  neighborhood  of  Saint-Flour, 
scraping  a  miserable  pittance  from  the  ground  for  the 
maintenance  of  his  family.  From  the  age  of  eight  years 
Cayrol  had  been  a  shepherd-boy.  Alone  in  the  quiet 
and  remote  country,  the  child  had  given  way  to  ambi- 
tious dreams.  He  was  very  intelligent,  and  felt  that  he 
was  born  to  another  sphere  than  that  of  farming. 

Thus,  at  the  first  opportunity  which  had  occurred  to 
take  him  into  a  town,  he  was  found  ready.  He  went  as 
servant  to  a  banker  at  Brioude.  There,  in  the  service  of 
this  comparatively  luxurious  house,  he  got  smoothed 
down  a  little,  and  lost  some  of  his  clumsy  loutishness. 
Strong  as  an  ox,  he  did  the  work  of  two  men,  and  at 
night,  when  in  his  garret,  fell  asleep  learning  to  read. 
He  was  seized  by  the  ambition  to  get  on.  No  pains  were 
to  be  spared  to  gain  his  goal. 

His  master  having  been  elected  a  member  of  the 
Chamber  of  Deputies,  Cayrol  accompanied  him  to 
Paris.  Life  in  the  capital  finished  the  turmoil  of  Cay- 
roPs  brain.  Seeing  the  prodigious  activity  of  the  great 
city  on  whose  pavements  fortunes  sprang  up  in  a  day 
like  mushrooms,  the  Auvergnat  felt  his  moral  strength 
equal  to  the  occasion,  and  leaving  his  master,  he  became 
clerk  to  a  merchant  in  the  Rue  du  Sentier. 

There,  for  four  years,  he  studied  commerce,  and 
gained  much  experience.  He  soon  learned  that  it  was 
only  in  financial  transactions  that  large  fortunes  were 
to  be  rapidly  made.  He  left  the  Rue  du  Sentier,  and 
found  a  place  at  a  stock-broker's.  His  keen  scent  for 
[36] 


SERGE  PANINE 

speculation  served  him  admirably.  After  the  lapse  of  a 
few  years  he  had  charge  of  the  business.  His  position 
was  getting  better;  he  was  making  fifteen  thousand 
francs  per  annum,  but  that  was  nothing  compared  to  his 
dreams.  He  was  then  twenty-eight  years  of  age.  He 
felt  ready  to  do  anything  to  succeed,  except  something 
unhandsome,  for  this  lover  of  money  would  have  died 
rather  than  enrich  himself  by  dishonest  means. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  his  lucky  star  threw  him  in 
Madame  Desvarennes's  way.  The  mistress,  under- 
standing men,  guessed  Cayrol's  worth  quickly.  She 
was  seeking  a  banker  who  would  devote  himself  to  her 
interests.  She  watched  the  young  man  narrowly  for 
some  time ;  then,  sure  she  was  not  mistaken  as  to  his  ca- 
pacity, she  bluntly  proposed  to  give  him  money  to  start 
a  business.  Cayrol,  who  had  already  saved  eighty  thou- 
sand francs,  received  twelve  hundred  thousand  from 
Madame  Desvarennes,  and  settled  in  the  Rue  Tait- 
bout,  two  steps  from  the  house  of  Rothschild. 

Madame  Desvarennes  had  made  a  lucky  hit  in  choos- 
ing Cayrol  as  her  confidential  agent.  This  short,  thick- 
set Auvergnat  was  a  master  of  finance,  and  in  a  few 
years  had  raised  the  house  to  an  unexpected  degree  of 
prosperity.  Madame  Desvarennes  had  drawn  consid- 
erable sums  as  interest  on  the  money  lent,  and  the 
banker's  fortune  was  already  estimated  at  several  mill- 
ions. Was  it  the  happy  influence  of  Madame  Desva- 
rennes that  changed  everything  she  touched  into  gold, 
or  were  Cayrol's  capacities  really  extraordinary  ?  The 
results  were  there  and  that  was  sufficient.  They  did 
not  trouble  themselves  over  and  above  that. 
[37] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

The  banker  had  naturally  become  one  of  the  inti- 
mates of  Madame  Desvarennes's  house.  For  a  long 
time  he  saw  Jeanne  without  particularly  noticing  her. 
This  young  girl  had  not  struck  his  fancy.  It  was  one 
night  at  a  ball,  on  seeing  her  dancing  with  Prince  Pa- 
nine,  that  he  perceived  that  she  was  marvellously  en- 
gaging. His  eyes  were  attracted  by  an  invincible  power 
and  followed  her  graceful  figure  whirling  through  the 
waltz.  He  secretly  envied  the  brilliant  cavalier  who 
was  holding  this  adorable  creature  in  his  arms,  who 
was  bending  over  her  bare  shoulders,  and  whose  breath 
lightly  touched  her  hair.  He  longed  madly  for  Jeanne, 
and  from  that  moment  thought  only  of  her. 

The  Prince  was  then  very  friendly  with  Mademoi- 
selle de  Cernay;  he  overwhelmed  her  with  kind  atten- 
tions. Cayrol  watched  him  to  see  if  he  spoke  to  her  of 
love,  but  Panine  was  a  past  master  in  these  drawing- 
room  skirmishes,  and  the  banker  got  nothing  for  his 
pains.  That  Cayrol  was  tenacious  has  been  proved. 
He  became  intimate  with  the  Prince.  He  tendered  him 
such  little  services  as  create  intimacy,  and  when  he  was 
sure  of  not  being  repulsed  with  haughtiness,  he  ques- 
tioned Serge.  Did  he  love  Mademoiselle  de  Cernay? 
This  question,  asked  in  a  trembling  voice  and  with  a 
constrained  smile,  found  the  Prince  quite  calm.  He  an- 
swered lightly  that  Mademoiselle  de  Cernay  was  a  very 
agreeable  partner,  but  that  he  had  never  dreamed  of 
offering  her  his  homage.  He  had  other  projects  in  his 
head.  Cayrol  pressed  the  Prince's  hand  violently,  made 
a  thousand  protestations  of  devotedness,  and  finally 
obtained  his  complete  confidence. 
[38] 


SERGE  PANINE 

Serge  loved  Mademoiselle  Desvarennes,  and  it  was 
to  become  intimate  with  her  that  he  had  so  eagerly 
sought  her  friend's  company.  Cayrol,  in  learning  the 
Prince's  secret,  resumed  his  usual  reserved  manner. 
He  knew  that  Micheline  was  engaged  to  Pierre  Delarue, 
but  still,  women  were  so  whimsical!  Who  could  tell? 
Perhaps  Mademoiselle  Desvarennes  had  looked  favor- 
ably upon  the  handsome  Serge. 

He  was  really  admirable  to  view,  this  Panine,  with 
his  blue  eyes,  pure  as  a  maiden's,  and  his  long  fair 
mustache  falling  on  each  side  of  his  rosy  mouth.  He 
had  a  truly  royal  bearing,  and  was  descended  from  an 
ancient  aristocratic  race;  he  had  a  charming  hand  and 
an  arched  foot,  enough  to  make  a  woman  envious. 
Soft  and  insinuating  with  his  tender  voice  and  sweet 
Sclavonic  accent,  he  was  no  ordinary  man,  but  one  usu- 
ally creating  a  great  impression  wherever  he  went. 

His  story  was  well  known  in  Paris.  He  was  born  in 
the  province  of  Posen,  so  violently  seized  on  by  Prussia, 
that  octopus  of  Europe.  Serge's  father  had  been  killed 
during  the  insurrection  of  1848,  and  he,  when  a  year 
old,  was  brought  by  his  uncle,  Thaddeus  Panine,  to 
France,  and  was  educated  at  the  College  Rollin,  where 
he  had  not  acquired  over  much  learning. 

In  1866,  at  the  moment  when  war  broke  out  between 
Prussia  and  Austria,  Serge  was  eighteen  years  old. 
By  his  uncle's  orders  he  had  left  Paris,  and  had  entered 
himself  for  the  campaign  in  an  Austrian  cavalry  regi- 
ment. All  who  bore  the  name  of  Panine,  and  had 
strength  to  hold  a  sword  or  carry  a  gun,  had  risen  to 
fight  the  oppressor  of  Poland.  Serge,  during  this  short 
[39] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

and  bloody  struggle,  showed  prodigies  of  valor.  On 
the  night  of  Sadowa,  out  of  seven  bearing  the  name  of 
Panine,  who  had  served  against  Prussia,  five  were  dead, 
one  was  wounded ;  Serge  alone  was  untouched,  though 
red  with  the  blood  of  his  uncle  Thaddeus,  who  was  killed 
by  the  bursting  of  a  shell.  All  these  Panines,  living  or 
dead,  had  gained  honors.  When  they  were  spoken  of 
before  Austrians  or  Poles,  they  were  called  heroes. 

Such  a  man  was  a  dangerous  companion  for  a  young, 
simple,  and  artless  girl  like  Micheline.  His  adventures 
were  bound  to  please  her  imagination,  and  his  beauty 
sure  to  charm  her  eyes.  Cayrol  was  a  prudent  man ;  he 
watched,  and  it  was  not  long  before  he  perceived  that 
Micheline  treated  the  Prince  with  marked  favor.  The 
quiet  young  girl  became  animated  when  Serge  was 
there.  Was  there  lo»ve  in  this  transformation  ?  Cayrol 
did  not  hesitate.  He  guessed  at  once  that  the  future 
would  be  Panine's,  and  that  the  maintenance  of  his  own 
influence  in  the  house  of  Desvarennes  depended  on  the 
attitude  which  he  was  about  to  take.  He  passed  over  to 
the  side  of  the  newcomer  with  arms  and  baggage,  and 
placed  himself  entirely  at  his  disposal. 

It  was  he  who  three  weeks  before,  in  the  name  of  Pa- 
nine,  had  made  overtures  to  Madame  Desvarennes. 
The  errand  had  been  difficult,  and  the  banker  had 
turned  his  tongue  several  times  in  his  mouth  before 
speaking.  Still,  Cayrol  could  overcome  all  difficulties. 
He  was  able  to  explain  the  object  of  his  mission  without 
Madame  flying  into  a  passion.  But,  the  explanation 
over,  there  was  a  terrible  scene.  He  witnessed  one  of 
the  most  awful  bursts  of  rage  that  it  was  possible  to 
[4o] 


SERGE  PANINE 

expect  from  a  violent  woman.  The  mistress  treated 
the  friend  of  the  family  as  one  would  not  have  dared  to 
treat  a  petty  commercial  traveller  who  came  to  a  private 
house  to  offer  his  wares.  She  showed  him  the  door, 
and  desired  him  not  to  darken  the  threshold  again. 

But  if  Cayrol  was  resolute  he  was  equally  patient. 
He  listened  without  saying  a  word  to  the  reproaches 
of  Madame  Desvarennes,  who  was  exasperated  that  a 
candidate  should  be  set  up  in  opposition  to  the  son-in- 
law  of  her  choosing.  He  did  not  go,  and  when  Madame 
Desvarennes  was  a  little  calmed  by  the  letting  out  of 
her  indignation,  he  argued  with  her.  The  mistress  was 
too  hasty  about  the  business;  it  was  no  use  deciding 
without  reflecting.  Certainly,  nobody  esteemed  Pierre 
Delarue  more  than  he  did;  but  it  was  necessary  to  know 
whether  Micheline  loved  him.  A  childish  affection  was 
not  love,  and  Prince  Panine  thought  he  might  hope  that 
Mademoiselle  Desvarennes 

The  mistress  did  not  allow  Cayrol  to  finish  his  sen- 
tence; she  rang  the  bell  and  asked  for  her  daughter. 
This  time,  Cayrol  prudently  took  the  opportunity  of 
disappearing.  He  had  opened  fire;  it  was  for  Michel- 
ine to  decide  the  result  of  the  battle.  The  banker 
awaited  the  issue  of  the  interview  between  mother  and 
daughter  in  the  next  room.  Through  the  door  he  heard 
the  irritated  tones  of  Madame  Desvarennes,  to  which 
Micheline  answered  softly  and  slowly.  The  mother 
threatened  and  stormed.  Coldly  and  quietly  the  daugh- 
ter received  the  attack.  The  tussle  lasted  about  an 
hour,  when  the  door  reopened  and  Madame  Desva- 
rennes appeared,  pale  and  still  trembling,  but  calmed. 


GEORGES  OHNET 

Micheline,  wiping  her  beautiful  eyes,  still  wet  with 
tears,  regained  her  apartment. 

"Well,"  said  Cayrol  timidly,  seeing  the  mistress 
standing  silent  and  absorbed  before  him;  "I  see  with 
pleasure  that  you  are  less  agitated.  Did  Mademoiselle 
Micheline  give  you  good  reasons?" 

"Good  reasons!"  cried  Madame  Desvarennes  with  a 
violent  gesture,  last  flash  of  the  late  storm.  "She  cried, 
that's  all.  And  you  know  when  she  cries  I  no  longer 
know  what  I  do  or  say!  She  breaks  my  heart  with  her 
tears.  And  she  knows  it.  Ah!  it  is  a  great  misfortune 
to  love  children  too  much!" 

This  energetic  woman  was  conquered,  and  yet  un- 
derstood that  she  was  wrong  to  allow  herself  to  be  con- 
quered. She  fell  into  a  deep  reverie,  and  forgot  that 
Cayrol  was  present.  She  thought  of  the  future  which 
she  had  planned  for  Micheline,  and  which  the  latter 
carelessly  destroyed  in  an  instant. 

Pierre,  now  an  orphan,  would  have  been  a  real  son  to 
the  mistress.  He  would  have  lived  in  her  house,  and 
have  surrounded  her  old  age  with  care  and  affection. 
And  then,  he  was  so  full  of  ability  that  he  could  not  help 
attaining  a  brilliant  position.  She  would  have  helped 
him,  and  would  have  rejoiced  in  his  success.  And  all 
this  scaffolding  was  overturned  because  this  Panine  had 
crossed  Micheline's  path.  A  foreign  adventurer,  prince 
perhaps,  but  who  could  tell  ?  Lies  are  easily  told  when 
the  proofs  of  the  lie  have  to  be  sought  beyond  the  fron- 
tiers. And  it  was  her  daughter  who  was  going  to  fall  in 
love  with  an  insipid  fop  who  only  coveted  her  millions. 
That  she  should  see  such  a  man  enter  her  family,  steal 
[42] 


SERGE  PANINE 

Micheline's  love  from  her,  and  rummage  her  strong- 
box! In  a  moment  she  vowed  mortal  hatred  against 
Panine,  and  resolved  to  do  all  she  could  to  prevent  the 
longed-for  marriage  with  her  daughter. 

She  was  disturbed  in  her  meditation  by  CayroPs 
voice.  He  wished  to  take  an  answer  to  the  Prince. 
What  must  he  say  to  him  ? 

"You  will  let  him  know,"  said  Madame  Desva- 
rennes,  "that  he  must  refrain  from  seeking  opportuni- 
ties of  meeting  my  daughter.  If  he  be  a  gentleman,  he 
will  understand  that  his  presence,  even  in  Paris,  is  disa- 
greeable to  me.  I  ask  him  to  go  away  for  three  weeks. 
After  that  time  he  may  come  back,  and  I  agree  to  give 
him  an  answer." 

"You  promise  me  that  you  will  not  be  vexed  with  me 
for  having  undertaken  this  errand?" 

"I  promise  on  one  condition.  It  is,  that  not  a  word 
which  has  passed  here  this  morning  shall  be  repeated  to 
any  one.  Nobody  must  suspect  the  proposal  that  you 
have  just  made  to  me." 

Cayrol  swore  to  hold  his  tongue,  and  he  kept  his 
word.  Prince  Panine  left  that  same  night  for  England. 

Madame  Desvarennes  was  a  woman  of  quick  reso- 
lution. She  took  a  sheet  of  paper,  a  pen,  and  in  her 
large  handwriting  wrote  the  following  lines  addressed 
to  Pierre: 

"If  you  do  not  wish  to  find  Micheline  married  on 
your  return,  come  back  without  a  moment's  delay." 

She  sent  this  ominous  letter  to  the  young  man,  who 
was  then  in  Tripoli.  That  done,  she  returned  to  her 
business  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  Her  placid  face 
[43] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

did  not  once  betray  the  anguish  of  her  heart  during 
those  three  weeks. 

The  term  fixed  by  Madame  Desvarennes  with  the 
Prince  had  expired  that  morning.  And  the  severity 
with  which  the  mistress  had  received  the  Minister  of 
War's  Financial  Secretary  was  a  symptom  of  the  agi- 
tation in  which  the  necessity  of  coming  to  a  decision 
placed  Micheline's  mother.  Every  morning  for  the  last 
week  she  had  expected  Pierre  to  arrive.  What  with 
having  to  give  an  answer  to  the  Prince  as  she  had  prom- 
ised, and  the  longing  to  see  him  whom  she  loved  as  a 
son,  she  felt  sick  at  heart  and  utterly  cast  down.  She 
thought  of  asking  the  Prince  for  a  respite.  It  was  for 
that  reason  she  was  glad  to  see  Cayrol. 

The  latter,  therefore,  had  arrived  opportunely.  He 
looked  as  if  he  brought  startling  news.  By  a  glance  he 
drew  Madame  Desvarennes' s  attention  to  Mare*chal  and 
seemed  to  say: 

"I  must  be  alone  with  you;  send  him  away." 

The  mistress  understood,  and  with  a  decided  gesture 
said: 

"You  can  speak  before  Marechal;  he  knows  all  my 
affairs  as  well  as  I  do  myself." 

"Even  the  matter  that  brings  me  here?"  replied  Cay- 
rol, with  surprise. 

"Even  that.  It  was  necessary  for  me  to  have  some 
one  to  whom  I  could  speak,  or  else  my  heart  would  have 
burst!  Come,  do  your  errand.  The  Prince?" 

"A  lot  it  has  to  do  with  the  Prince,"  exclaimed  Cay- 
rol, in  a  huff.  "Pierre  has  arrived!" 

Madame  Desvarennes  rose  abruptly.  A  rush  of 
[44] 


SERGE  PANINE 

blood  rose  to  her  face,  her  eyes  brightened,  and  her  lips 
opened  with  a  smile. 

"At  last!"  she  cried.  "But  where  is  he?  How  did 
you  hear  of  his  return?" 

"Ah!  faith,  it  was  just  by  chance.  I  was  shooting 
yesterday  at  Fontainebleau,  and  I  returned  this  morn- 
ing by  the  express.  On  arriving  at  Paris,  I  alighted  on 
the  platform,  and  there  I  found  myself  face  to  face  with 
a  tall  young  man  with  a  long  beard,  who,  seeing  me 
pass,  called  out,  'Ah,  Cayrol!'  It  was  Pierre.  I  only 
recognized  him  by  his  voice.  He  is  much  changed; 
with  his  beard,  and  his  complexion  bronzed  like  an 
African." 

"What  did  he  say  to  you?" 

"Nothing.  He  pressed  my  hand.  He  looked  at  me 
for  a  moment  with  glistening  eyes.  There  was  some- 
thing on  his  lips  which  he  longed  to  ask,  yet  did  not; 
but  I  guessed  it.  I  was  afraid  of  giving  way  to  tender- 
ness, that  might  have  ended  in  my  saying  something 
foolish,  so  I  left  him." 

"How  long  ago  is  that?" 

"About  an  hour  ago.  I  only  just  ran  home  before 
coming  on  here.  There  I  found  Panine  waiting  for  me. 
He  insisted  upon  accompanying  me.  I  hope  you  won't 
blame  him?" 

Madame  Desvarennes  frowned. 

"I  will  not  see  him  just  now,"  she  said,  looking  at 
Cayrol  with  a  resolute  air.  "Where  did  you  leave 
him?" 

"In  the  garden,  where  I  found  the  young  ladies." 

As  if  to  verify  the  banker's  words,  a  merry  peal  of 
[45] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

laughter  was  heard  through  the  half-open  window.  It 
was  Micheline,  who,  with  returning  gayety,  was  making 
up  for  the  three  weeks'  sadness  she  had  experienced  dur- 
ing Panine's  absence. 

Madame  Desvarennes  went  to  the  window,  and 
looked  into  the  garden.  Seated  on  the  lawn,  in  large 
bamboo  chairs,  the  young  girls  were  listening  to  a  story 
the  Prince  was  telling.  The  morning  was  bright  and 
mild;  the  sun  shining  through  Micheline's  silk  sun- 
shade lit  up  her  fair  head.  Before  her,  Serge,  bending 
his  tall  figure,  was  speaking  with  animation.  Michel- 
ine's eyes  were  softly  fixed  on  him.  Reclining  in  her 
armchair,  she  allowed  herself  to  be  carried  away  with 
his  conversation,  and  thoroughly  enjoyed  his  society,  of 
which  she  had  been  deprived  for  the  last  three  weeks. 
Beside  her,  Jeanne,  silently  watching  the  Prince,  was 
mechanically  nibbling,  with  her  white  teeth,  a  bunch  of 
carnations  which  she  held  in  her  hands.  A  painful 
thought  contracted  Mademoiselle  de  Cernay's  brow, 
and  her  pale  lips  on  the  red  flowers  seemed  to  be  drink- 
ing blood. 

The  mistress  slowly  turned  away  from  this  scene.  A 
shadow  had  crossed  her  brow,  which  had,  for  a  moment, 
become  serene  again  at  the  announcement  of  Pierre's 
arrival.  She  remained  silent  for  a  little  while,  as  if  con- 
sidering; then  coming  to  a  resolution,  and  turning  to 
Cayrol,  she  said: 

"Where  is  Pierre  staying?" 

"At  the  Hotel  du  Louvre,"  replied  the  banker. 

"Well,  I'm  going  there." 

Madame  Desvarennes  rang  the  bell  violently. 
[46] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"My  bonnet,  my  cloak,  and  the  carriage,"  she  said, 
and  with  a  friendly  nod  to  the  two  men,  she  went  out 
quickly. 

Micheline  was  still  laughing  in  the  garden.  Marechal 
and  Cayrol  looked  at  each  other.  Cayrol  was  the  first 
to  speak. 

"The  mistress  told  you  all  about  the  matter  then? 
How  is  it  you  never  spoke  to  me  about  it?" 

"Should  I  have  been  worthy  of  Madame  Desva- 
rennes's  confidence  had  I  spoken  of  what  she  wished  to 
keep  secret?" 

"Tome?" 

"Especially  to  you.  The  attitude  which  you  have 
taken  forbade  my  speaking.  You  favor  Prince  Pa- 
nine?" 

"And  you;  you  are  on  Pierre  Delarue's  side?" 

"I  take  no  side.  I  am  only  a  subordinate,  you  know; 
I  do  not  count." 

"Do  not  attempt  to  deceive  me.  Your  influence  over 
the  mistress  is  great.  The  confidence  she  has  in  you  is 
a  conclusive  proof.  Important  events  are  about  to  take 
place  here.  Pierre  has  certainly  returned  to  claim  his 
right  as  betrothed,  and  Mademoiselle  Micheline  loves 
Prince  Serge.  Out  of  this  a  serious  conflict  will  take 
place  in  the  house.  There  will  be  a  battle.  And  as  the 
parties  in  question  are  about  equal  in  strength,  I  am 
seeking  adherents  for  my  candidate.  I  own,  in  all  hu- 
mility, I  am  on  love's  side.  The  Prince  is  beloved  by 
Mademoiselle  Desvarennes,  and  I  serve  him.  Michel- 
ine will  be  grateful,  and  will  do  me  a  turn  with  Made- 
moiselle de  Cernay.  As  to  you,  let  me  give  you  a  little 
[47] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

advice.  If  Madame  Desvarennes  consults  you,  speak 
well  of  Panine.  When  the  Prince  is  master  here,  your 
position  will  be  all  the  better  for  it." 

Mar£chal  had  listened  to  Cayrol  without  anything  be- 
traying the  impression  his  words  created.  He  looked  at 
the  banker  in  a  peculiar  manner,  which  caused  him  to 
feel  uncomfortable,  and  made  him  lower  his  eyes. 

"Perhaps  you  do  not  know,  Monsieur  Cayrol,"  said 
the  secretary,  after  a  moment's  pause,  "how  I  entered 
this  firm.  It  is  as  well  in  that  case  to  inform  you.  Four 
years  ago,  I  was  most  wretched.  After  having  sought 
fortune  ten  times  without  success,  I  felt  myself  giving 
way  morally  and  physically.  There  are  some  beings 
gifted  with  energy,  who  can  surmount  all  the  difficulties 
of  life.  You  are  one  of  those.  As  for  me,  the  struggle 
exhausted  my  strength,  and  I  came  to  grief.  It  would 
take  too  long  to  enumerate  all  the  ways  of  earning  my 
living  I  tried.  Few  even  fed  me;  and  I  was  thinking 
of  putting  an  end  to  my  miserable  existence  when  I 
met  Pierre.  We  had  been  at  college  together.  I  went 
toward  him;  he  was  on  the  quay.  I  dared  to  stop  him. 
At  first  he  did  not  recognize  me,  I  was  so  haggard,  so 
wretched-looking!  But  when  I  spoke,  he  cried,  'Mare- 
chal!'  and,  without  blushing  at  my  tatters,  put  his  arms 
round  my  neck.  We  were  opposite  the  Belle  Jardiniere, 
the  clothiers;  he  wanted  to  rig  me  out.  I  remember  as 
if  it  were  but  yesterday  I  said,  'No,  nothing,  only  find 
me  work!'  'Work,  my  poor  fellow,'  he  answered,  'but 
just  look  at  yourself;  who  would  have  confidence  to 
give  you  any?  You  look  like  a  tramp,  and  when  you 
accosted  me  a  little  while  ago,  I  asked  myself  if  you 
[48] 


SERGE  PANINE 

were  not  about  to  steal  my  watch ! '  And  he  laughed 
gayly,  happy  at  having  found  me  again,  and  thinking 
that  he  might  be  of  use  to  me.  Seeing  that  I  would  not 
go  into  the  shop,  he  took  off  his  overcoat,  and  put  it  on 
my  back  to  cover  my  tattered  clothes,  and  there  and 
then  he  took  me  to  Madame  Desvarennes.  Two  days 
later  I  entered  the  office.  You  see  the  position  I  hold, 
and  I  owe  it  to  Pierre.  He  has  been  more  than  a  friend 
to  me — a  brother.  Come !  after  that,  tell  me  what  you 
would  think  of  me  if  I  did  what  you  have  just  asked 
me?" 

Cayrol  was  confused;  he  twisted  his  bristly  beard 
with  his  fingers. 

" Faith,  I  do  not  say  that  your  scruples  are  not  right; 
but,  between  ourselves,  every  step  that  is  taken  against 
the  Prince  will  count  for  naught.  He  will  marry  Made- 
moiselle Desvarennes." 

"It  is  possible.  In  that  case,  I  shall  be  here  to  con- 
sole Pierre  and  sympathize  with  him." 

"And  in  the  mean  time  you  are  going  to  do  all  you 
can  in  his  favor?'' 

"I  have  already  had  the  honor  of  telling  you  that 
I  cannot  do  anything " 

"Well,  well.  One  knows  what  talking  means,  and 
you  will  not  change  my  idea  of  your  importance.  You 
take  the  weaker  side  then;  that's  superb!" 

"It  is  but  strictly  honest,"  said  Marechal.  "It  is 
true  that  that  quality  has  become  very  rare!" 

Cayrol  wheeled  round  on  his  heels.  He  took  a  few 
steps  toward  the  door,  then,  returning  to  Marechal, 
held  out  his  hand : 

4  [49] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"Without  a  grudge,  eh?" 

The  secretary  allowed  his  hand  to  be  shaken  without 
answering,  and  the  banker  went  out,  saying  to  himself: 

"He  is  without  a  sou  and  has  prejudices!  There's  a 
lad  without  a  future." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  RIVALS 

N  reaching  Paris,  Pierre  Delarue  ex- 
perienced a  strange  feeling.  In  his 
feverish  haste  he  longed  for  the  swift- 
ness of  electricity  to  bring  him  near 
Micheline.  As  soon  as  he  arrived  in 
Paris,  he  regretted  having  travelled  so 
fast.  He  longed  to  meet  his  betrothed, 
yet  feared  to  know  his  fate. 
He  had  a  sort  of  presentiment  that  his  reception 
would  destroy  his  hopes.  And  the  more  he  tried  to 
banish  these  thoughts,  the  more  forcibly  they  returned. 
The  thought  that  Micheline  had  forgotten  her  prom- 
ise made  the  blood  rush  to  his  face. 

Madame  Desvarennes's  short  letter  suggested  it. 
That  his  betrothed  was  lost  to  him  he  understood,  but 
he  would  not  admit  it.  How  was  it  possible  that  Mi- 
cheline should  forget  him?  All  his  childhood  passed 
before  his  mind.  He  remembered  the  sweet  and  artless 
evidences  of  affection  which  the  young  girl  had  given 
him.  And  yet  she  no  longer  loved  him !  It  was  her  own 
mother  who  said  so.  After  that  could  he  still  hope  ? 

A  prey  to  this  deep  trouble,  Pierre  entered  Paris.  On 
finding  himself  face  to  face  with  Cayrol,  the  young  man's 
first  idea  was,  as  Cayrol  had  guessed,  to  cry  out,  "What's 


GEORGES  OHNET 

going  on?  Is  all  lost  to  me ?"  A  sort  of  anxious  mod- 
esty kept  back  the  words  on  his  lips.  He  would  not 
admit  that  he  doubted.  And,  then,  Cayrol  would  only 
have  needed  to  answer  that  all  was  over,  and  that  he 
could  put  on  mourning  for  his  love.  He  turned  around, 
and  went  out. 

The  tumult  of  Paris  surprised  and  stunned  him. 
After  spending  a  year  in  the  peaceful  solitudes  of  Af- 
rica, to  find  himself  amid  the  cries  of  street- sellers,  the 
rolling  of  carriages,  and  the  incessant  movement  of  the 
great  city,  was  too  great  a  contrast  to  him.  Pierre  was 
overcome  by  languor;  his  head  seemed  too  heavy  for 
his  body  to  carry;  he  mechanically  entered  a  cab  which 
conveyed  him  to  the  Hotel  du  Louvre.  Through  the 
window,  against  the  glass  of  which  he  tried  to  cool  his 
heated  forehead,  he  saw  pass  in  procession  before  his 
eyes,  the  Column  of  July,  the  church  of  St.  Paul,  the 
Hotel  de  Ville  in  ruins,  and  the  colonnade  of  the 
Louvre. 

An  absurd  idea  took  possession  of  him.  He  remem- 
bered that  during  the  Commune  he  was  nearly  killed  in 
the  Rue  Saint-Antoine  by  the  explosion  of  a  shell,  thrown 
by  the  insurgents  from  the  heights  of  Pere-Lachaise. 
He  thought  that  had  he  died  then,  Micheline  would  have 
wept  for  him.  Then,  as  in  a  nightmare,  it  seemed  to 
him  that  this  hypothesis  was  realized.  He  saw  the 
church  hung  with  black,  he  heard  the  funeral  chants. 
A  catafalque  contained  his  coffin,  and  slowly  his  be- 
trothed came,  with  a  trembling  hand,  to  throw  holy 
water  on  the  cloth  which  covered  the  bier.  And  a  voice 
said  within  him : 

[52] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"You  are  dead,  since  Micheline  is  about  to  marry 
another." 

He  made  an  effort  to  banish  this  importunate  idea. 
He  could  not  succeed.  Thoughts  flew  through  his 
brain  with  fearful  rapidity.  He  thought  he  was  begin- 
ning to  be  seized  with  brain  fever.  And  this  dismal  cer- 
emony kept  coming  before  him  with  the  same  chants, 
the  same  words  repeated,  and  the  same  faces  appearing. 
The  houses  seemed  to  fly  before  his  vacant  eyes.  To 
stop  this  nightmare  he  tried  to  count  the  gas-lamps — 
one,  two,  three,  four,  five — but  the  same  thought  inter- 
rupted his  calculation: 

"You  are  dead,  since  your  betrothed  is  about  to 
marry  another." 

He  was  afraid  he  was  going  mad.  A  sharp  pain  shot 
across  his  forehead  just  above  the  right  eyebrow.  In 
the  old  days  he  had  felt  the  same  pain  when  he  had 
overworked  himself  in  preparing  for  his  examinations 
at  the  Polytechnic  School.  With  a  bitter  smile  he  asked 
himself  if  one  of  the  aching  vessels  in  his  brain  was 
about  to  burst? 

The  sudden  stoppage  of  the  cab  freed  him  from  this 
torture.  The  hotel  porter  opened  the  door.  Pierre 
stepped  out  mechanically.  Without  speaking  a  word 
he  followed  a  waiter,  who  showed  him  to  a  room  on  the 
second  floor.  Left  alone,  he  sat  down.  This  room, 
with  its  commonplace  furniture,  chilled  him.  He  saw 
in  it  a  type  of  his  future  life:  lonely  and  desolate.  For- 
merly, when  he  used  to  come  to  Paris,  he  stayed  with 
Madame  Desvarennes,  where  he  had  the  comforts  of 
home,  and  every  one  looked  on  him  affectionately, 

[53] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

Here,  at  the  hotel,  orders  were  obeyed  with  politeness 
at  so  much  a  day.  Would  it  always  be  thus  in 
future  ? 

This  painful  impression  dissipated  his  weakness  as  by 
enchantment.  He  so  bitterly  regretted  the  sweets  of  the 
past,  that  he  resolved  to  struggle  to  secure  them  for  the 
future.  He  dressed  himself  quickly,  and  removed  all 
the  traces  of  his  journey;  then,  his  mind  made  up,  he 
jumped  into  a  cab,  and  drove  to  Madame  Desvarennes's. 
All  indecision  had  left  him.  His  fears  now  seemed  con- 
temptible. He  must  defend  himself.  It  was  a  question 
of  his  happiness. 

At  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  a  carriage  passed  his 
cab.  He  recognized  the  livery  of  Madame  Desva- 
rennes's coachman  and  leant  forward.  The  mistress 
did  not  see  him.  He  was  about  to  stop  the  cab  and  tell 
his  driver  to  follow  her  carriage  when  a  sudden  thought 
decided  him  to  go  on.  It  was  Micheline  he  wanted  to 
see.  His  future  destiny  depended  on  her.  Madame 
Desvarennes  had  made  him  clearly  understand  that  by 
calling  for  his  help  in  her  fatal  letter.  He  went  on  his 
way,  and  in  a  few  minutes  arrived  at  the  mansion  in  the 
Rue  Saint-Dominique. 

Micheline  and  Jeanne  were  still  in  the  garden,  seated 
in  the  same  place  on  the  lawn.  Cayrol  had  joined 
Serge.  Both,  profiting  by  the  lovely  morning,  were  en- 
joying the  society  of  their  beloved  ones.  A  quick  step  on 
the  gravel  walk  attracted  their  attention.  In  the  sun- 
light a  young  man,  whom  neither  Jeanne  nor  Mi- 
cheline recognized,  was  advancing.  When  about  two 
yards  distant  from  the  group  he  slowly  raised  his  hat. 
[54] 


SERGE  PANINE 

Seeing  the  constrained  and  astonished  manner  of  the 
young  girls,  a  sad  smile  played  on  his  lips,  then  he  said, 
softly: 

"Am  I  then  so  changed  that  I  must  tell  you  my 
name?" 

At  these  words  Micheline  jumped  up,  she  became  as 
white  as  her  collar,  and  trembling,  with  sobs  rising  to 
her  lips,  stood  silent  and  petrified  before  Pierre.  She 
could  not  speak,  but  her  eyes  were  eagerly  fixed  on  the 
young  man.  It  was  he,  the  companion  of  her  youth,  so 
changed  that  she  had  not  recognized  him;  worn  by 
hard  work,  perhaps  by  anxieties,  bronzed,  and  with  his 
face  hidden  by  a  black  beard  which  gave  him  a  manly 
and  energetic  appearance.  It  was  certainly  he,  with  a 
thin  red  ribbon  at  his  button-hole,  which  he  had  not 
when  he  went  away,  and  which  showed  the  importance 
of  the  works  he  had  executed  and  of  great  perils  he  had 
faced.  Pierre,  trembling  and  motionless,  was  silent; 
the  sound  of  his  voice  choked  with  emotion  had  fright- 
ened him.  He  had  expected  a  cold  reception,  but  this 
scared  look,  which  resembled  terror,  was  beyond  all  he 
had  pictured.  Serge  wondered  and  watched. 

Jeanne  broke  the  icy  silence.  She  went  up  to  Pierre, 
and  presented  her  forehead. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "don't  you  kiss  your  friends?" 

She  smiled  affectionately  on  him.  Two  grateful 
tears  sparkled  in  the  young  man's  eyes,  and  fell  on 
Mademoiselle  de  Cernay's  hair.  Micheline,  led  away  by 
the  example  and  without  quite  knowing  what  she  was 
doing,  found  herself  in  Pierre's  arms.  The  situation 
was  becoming  singularly  perplexing  to  Serge.  Cayrol, 
[55] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

who  had  not  lost  his  presence  of  mind,  understood  it, 
and  turning  toward  the  Prince,  said : 

"Monsieur  Pierre  Delarue:  an  old  friend  and  com- 
panion of  Mademoiselle  Desvarennes's;  almost  a 
brother  to  her,"  thus  explaining  in  one  word  all  that 
could  appear  unusual  in  such  a  scene  of  tenderness. 

Then,  addressing  Pierre,  he  simply  added — "Prince 
Panine." 

The  two  men  looked  at  each  other.  Serge,  with 
haughty  curiosity;  Pierre,  with  inexpressible  rage.  In 
a  moment,  he  guessed  that  the  tall,  handsome  man  be- 
side his  betrothed  was  his  rival.  If  looks  could  kill,  the 
Prince  would  have  fallen  down  dead.  Panine  did  not 
deign  to  notice  the  hatred  which  glistened  in  the  eyes 
of  the  newcomer.  He  turned  toward  Micheline  with 
exquisite  grace  and  said : 

"Your  mother  receives  her  friends  this  evening,  I 
think,  Mademoiselle;  I  shall  have  the  honor  of  paying 
my  respects  to  her." 

And  taking  leave  of  Jeanne  with  a  smile,  and  of 
Pierre  with  a  courteous  bow,  he  left,  accompanied  by 
Cayrol. 

Serge's  departure  was  a  relief  to  Micheline.  Between 
these  two  men  to  whom  she  belonged,  to  the  one  by  a 
promise,  to  the  other  by  an  avowal,  she  felt  ashamed. 
Left  alone  with  Pierre  she  recovered  her  self-possession, 
and  felt  full  of  pity  for  the  poor  fellow  threatened  with 
such  cruel  deception.  She  went  tenderly  to  him,  with 
her  loving  eyes  of  old,  and  pressed  his  hand : 

"I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  again,  my  dear  Pierre; 
and  my  mother  will  be  delighted.  We  were  very  anx- 
[56] 


SERGE  PANINE 

ious  about  you.    You  have  not  written  to  us  for  some 
months." 

Pierre  tried  to  joke:  "The  post  does  not  leave  very 
often  in  the  desert.  I  wrote  whenever  I  had  an  oppor- 
tunity." 

"Is  it  so  very  pleasant  in  Africa  that  you  could  not 
tear  yourself  away  a  whole  year?" 

"I  had  to  take  another  journey  on  the  coast  of  Tripoli 
to  finish  my  labors.  I  was  interested  in  my  work,  and 
anxious  not  to  lose  the  result  of  so  much  effort,  and  I 
think  I  have  succeeded  —  at  least  in  the  opinion  of 
my  employers,"  said  the  young  man,  with  a  ghastly 
smile. 

"My  dear  Pierre,  you  come  in  time  from  the  land  of 
the  sphinx,"  interrupted  Jeanne  gravely,  and  glancing 
intently  at  Micheline.  "There  is  here,  I  assure  you,  a 
difficult  enigma  to  solve." 

"What  is  it?" 

"That  which  is  written  in  this  heart,"  she  replied, 
lightly  touching  her  companion's  breast. 

"From  childhood  I  have  always  read  it  as  easily  as 
a  book,"  said  Pierre,  with  tremulous  voice,  turning 
toward  the  amazed  Micheline. 

Mademoiselle  de  Cernay  tossed  her  head. 

"Who  knows?  Perhaps  her  disposition  has  changed 
during  your  absence;"  and  nodding  pleasantly,  she 
went  toward  the  house. 

Pierre  followed  her  for  a  moment  with  his  eyes,  then, 
turning  toward  his  betrothed,  said : 

"Micheline,  shall  I  tell  you  your  secret?  You  no 
longer  love  me." 

[57] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

The  young  girl  started.  The  attack  was  direct.  She 
must  at  once  give  an  explanation.  She  had  often 
thought  of  what  she  would  say  when  Pierre  came  back 
to  her.  The  day  had  arrived  unexpectedly.  And  the 
answers  she  had  prepared  had  fled.  The  truth  ap- 
peared harsh  and  cold.  She  understood  that  the  change 
in  her  was  treachery,  of  which  Pierre  was  the  innocent 
victim;  and  feeling  herself  to  blame,  she  waited  trem- 
blingly the  explosion  of  this  loyal  heart  so  cruelly 
wounded.  She  stammered,  in  tremulous  accents: 

"  Pierre,  my  friend,  my  brother." 

"Your  brother!"  cried  the  young  man,  bitterly. 
"Was  that  the  name  you  were  to  give  me  on  my  re- 
turn?" 

At  these  words,  which  so  completely  summed  up  the 
situation,  Micheline  remained  silent.  Still  she  felt  that 
at  all  hazards  she  must  defend  herself.  Her  mother 
might  come  in  at  any  moment.  Between  Madame  Des- 
varennes  and  her  betrothed,  what  would  become  of 
her  ?  The  hour  was  decisive.  Her  strong  love  for  Serge 
gave  her  fresh  energy. 

"Why  did  you  go  away?"  she  asked,  with  sadness. 

Pierre  raised  with  pride  his  head  which  had  been 
bent  with  anguish. 

"To  be  worthy  of  you,"  he  merely  said. 

"You  did  not  need  to  be  worthy  of  me;  you,  who 
were  already  above  every  one  else.  We  were  betrothed ; 
you  only  had  to  guard  me." 

"Could  not  your  heart  guard  itself?" 

"Without  help,  without  the  support  of  your  presence 
and  affection?" 

[58] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"Without  other  help  or  support  than  I  had  myself: 
Hope  and  Remembrance." 

Micheline  turned  pale.  Each  word  spoken  by  Pierre 
made  her  feel  the  unworthiness  of  her  conduct  more 
completely.  She  endeavored  to  find  a  new  excuse: 

"Pierre,  you  know  I  was  only  a  child." 

"No,"  said  the  young  man,  with  choked  voice,  "I  see 
that  you  were  already  a  woman ;  a  being  weak,  incon- 
stant, and  cruel,  who  cares  not  for  the  love  she  inspires, 
and  sacrifices  all  to  the  love  she  feels." 

So  long  as  Pierre  had  only  complained,  Micheline  felt 
overwhelmed  and  without  strength;  but  the  young 
man  began  to  accuse.  In  a  moment  the  young  girl  re- 
gained her  presence  of  mind  and  revolted. 

"Those  are  hard  words!"  she  exclaimed. 

"Are  they  not  deserved?"  cried  Pierre,  no  longer 
restraining  himself.  "You  saw  me  arrive  trembling, 
with  eyes  full  of  tears,  and  not  only  had  you  not  an  affec- 
tionate word  to  greet  me  with,  but  you  almost  accuse  me 
of  indifference.  You  reproach  me  with  having  gone 
away.  Did  you  not  know  my  motive  for  going  ?  I  was 
betrothed  to  you ;  you  were  rich  and  I  was  poor.  To 
remove  this  inequality  I  resolved  to  make  a  name.  I 
sought  one  of  those  perilous  scientific  missions  which 
bring  celebrity  or  death  to  those  who  undertake  them. 
Ah!  think  not  that  I  went  away  from  you  without 
heart-breaking !  For  a  year  I  was  almost  alone,  crushed 
with  fatigue,  always  in  danger;  the  thought  that  I  was 
suffering  for  you  supported  me. 

"When  lost  in  the  vast  desert,  I  was  sad  and  discour- 
aged; I  invoked  you,  and  your  sweet  face  gave  me  fresh 
[59] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

hope  and  energy.  I  said  to  myself, '  She  is  waiting  for  me. 
A  day  will  come  when  I  shall  win  the  prize  of  all  my 
trouble.'  Well,  Micheline,  the  day  has  come;  here  I 
am,  returned,  and  I  ask  for  my  reward.  Is  it  what  I 
had  a  right  to  expect  ?  While  I  was  running  after  glory, 
another,  more  practical  and  better  advised,  stole  your 
heart.  My  happiness  is  destroyed.  You  did  well  to 
forget  me.  The  fool  who  goes  so  far  away  from  his  be- 
trothed does  not  deserve  her  faithfulness.  He  is  cold, 
indifferent,  he  does  not  know  how  to  love!" 

These  vehement  utterances  troubled  Micheline  deep- 
ly. For  the  first  time  she  understood  her  betrothed, 
felt  how  much  he  loved  her,  and  regretted  not  hav- 
ing known  it  before.  If  Pierre  had  spoken  like  that 
before  going  away,  who  knows?  Micheline's  feelings 
might  have  been  quickened.  No  doubt  she  would  have 
loved  him.  It  would  have  come  naturally.  But  Pierre 
had  kept  the  secret  of  his  passion  for  the  young  girl  to 
himself.  It  was  only  despair,  and  the  thought  of  losing 
her,  that  made  him  give  vent  to  his  feelings  now. 

"I  see  that  I  have  been  cruel  and  unjust  to  you,"  said 
Micheline.  "I  deserve  your  reproaches,  but  I  am  not 
the  only  one  to  blame.  You,  too,  are  at  fault.  What  I 
have  just  heard  has  upset  me.  I  am  truly  sorry  to  cause 
you  so  much  pain;  but  it  is  too  late.  I  no  longer  be- 
long to  myself." 

"And  did  you  belong  to  yourself?" 

"No!  It  is  true,  you  had  my  word,  but  be  generous. 
Do  not  abuse  the  authority  which  being  my  betrothed 
gives  you.  That  promise  I  would  now  ask  back  from 
you." 

[60] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"And  if  I  refuse  to  release  you  from  your  promise? 
If  I  tried  to  regain  your  love?"  cried  Pierre,  forcibly. 
"Have  I  not  the  right  to  defend  myself?  And  what 
would  you  think  of  my  love  if  I  relinquished  you  so 
readily?" 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  The  interview  was 
at  its  highest  pitch  of  excitement.  Micheline  knew 
that  she  must  put  an  end  to  it.  She  replied  with  firm- 
ness: 

"A  girl  such  as  I  am  will  not  break  her  word;  mine 
belongs  to  you,  but  my  heart  is  another's.  Say  you  in- 
sist, and  I  am  ready  to  keep  my  promise  to  become  your 
wife.  It  is  for  you  to  decide." 

Pierre  gave  the  young  girl  a  look  which  plunged  into 
the  depths  of  her  heart.  He  read  there  her  resolve  that 
she  would  act  loyally,  but  that  at  the  same  time  she 
would  never  forget  him  who  had  so  irresistibly  gained 
her  heart.  He  made  a  last  effort. 

"Listen,"  he  said,  with  ardent  voice,  "it  is  impossi- 
ble that  you  can  have  forgotten  me  so  soon :  I  love  you 
so  much !  Remember  our  affection  in  the  old  days,  Mi- 
cheline. Remember " 

He  no  longer  argued;  he  pleaded.  Micheline  felt 
victorious.  She  was  moved  with  pity. 

"Alas!  my  poor  Pierre,  my  affection  was  only  friend- 
ship, and  my  heart  has  not  changed  toward  you.  The 
love  which  I  now  feel  is  quite  different.  If  it  had  not 
come  to  me,  I  might  have  been  your  wife.  And  I  es- 
teemed you  so  much,  that  I  should  have  been  happy. 
But  now  I  understand  the  difference.  You,  whom  I 
had  accepted,  would  never  have  been  more  to  me  than 


GEORGES  OHNET 

a  tender  companion;  he  whom  I  have  chosen  will  be 
my  master." 

Pierre  uttered  a  cry  at  this  cruel  and  frank  avowal. 

"Ah!  how  you  hurt  me!" 

And  bitter  tears  rolled  down  his  face  to  the  relief  of 
his  overburdened  heart.  He  sank  on  to  a  seat,  and  for 
a  moment  gave  way  to  violent  grief.  Micheline,  more 
touched  by  his  despair  than  she  had  been  by  his  re- 
proaches, went  to  him  and  wiped  his  face  with  her  lace 
handkerchief.  Her  white  hand  was  close  to  the  young 
man's  mouth,  and  he  kissed  it  eagerly.  Then,  as  if 
roused  by  the  action,  he  rose  with  a  changed  look  in  his 
eyes,  and  seized  the  young  girl  in  his  arms.  Micheline 
did  not  utter  a  word.  She  looked  coldly  and  resolutely 
at  Pierre,  and  threw  back  her  head  to  avoid  the  contact 
of  his  eager  lips.  That  look  was  enough.  The  arms 
which  held  her  were  unloosed,  and  Pierre  moved  away, 
murmuring: 

"I  beg  your  pardon.  You  see  I  am  not  in  my  right 
mind." 

Then  passing  his  hand  across  his  forehead  as  if  to 
chase  away  a  wicked  thought,  he  added : 

"  So  it  is  irrevocable  ?   You  love  him  ?  " 

"Enough  to  give  you  so  much  pain;  enough  to  be 
nobody's  unless  I  belong  to  him." 

Pierre  reflected  a  moment,  then,  coming  to  a  de- 
cision : 

"Go,  you  are  free,"  said  he;  "I  give  you  back  your 
promise." 

Micheline  uttered  a  cry  of  triumph,  which  made  him 
who  had  been  her  betrothed  turn  pale.  She  regretted 
[62] 


SERGE  PANINE 

not  having  hidden  her  joy  better.  She  approached 
Pierre  and  said : 

"Tell  me  that  you  forgive  me!" 

"I  forgive  you." 

"You  still  weep?" 

"Yes;  I  am  weeping  over  my  lost  happiness.  I 
thought  the  best  means  of  being  loved  were  to  deserve 
it.  I  was  mistaken.  I  will  courageously  atone  for  my 
error.  Excuse  my  weakness,  and  believe  that  you  will 
never  have  a  more  faithful  and  devoted  friend  than  I." 

Micheline  gave  him  her  hand,  and,  smiling,  bowed 
her  forehead  to  his  lips.  He  slowly  impressed  a  broth- 
erly kiss,  which  effaced  the  burning  trace  of  the  one 
which  he  had  stolen  a  moment  before. 

At  the  same  time  a  deep  voice  was  heard  in  the  dis- 
tance, calling  Pierre.  Micheline  trembled. 

" 'Tis  my  mother,"  she  said.  "She  is  seeking  you. 
I  will  leave  you.  Adieu,  and  a  thousand  thanks  from 
my  very  heart." 

And  nimbly  springing  behind  a  clump  of  lilac-trees  in 
flower,  Micheline  disappeared. 

Pierre  mechanically  went  toward  the  house.  He 
ascended  the  marble  steps  and  entered  the  drawing- 
room.  As  he  shut  the  door,  Madame  Desvarennes 
appeared. 


CHAPTER  V 

A  CRITICAL  INTERVIEW 

?ADAME  DESVARENNES  had  been 
driven  to  the  Hotel  du  Louvre  without 
losing  a  minute.  She  most  wanted  to 
know  in  what  state  of  mind  her 
daughter's  betrothed  had  arrived  in 
Paris.  Had  the  letter,  which  brutally 
told  him  the  truth,  roused  him  and 
tightened  the  springs  of  his  will  ?  Was 
he  ready  for  the  struggle? 

If  she  found  him  confident  and  bold,  she  had  only  to 
settle  with  him  as  to  the  common  plan  of  action  which 
must  bring  about  the  eviction  of  the  audacious  candi- 
date who  wished  to  marry  Micheline.  If  she  found  him 
discouraged  and  doubtful  of  himself,  she  had  decided 
to  animate  him  with  her  ardor  against  Serge  Panine . 

She  prepared  these  arguments  on  the  way,  and,  boil- 
ing with  impatience,  outstripped  in  thought  the  fleet 
horse  which  was  drawing  her  past  the  long  railings  of 
the  Tuileries  toward  the  Hotel  du  Louvre.  Wrapped 
in  her  meditations  she  did  not  see  Pierre.  She  was  say- 
ing to  herself: 

"This  fair-haired  Polish  dandy  does  not  know  with 
whom  he  has  to  deal.   He  will  see  what  sort  of  a  woman 
I  am,    He  has  not  risen  early  enough  in  the  morning  to 
[64] 


SERGE  PANINE 

hoodwink  me.    If  Pierre  is  only  of  the  same  opinion  as 
I,  we  shall  soon  spoil  this  fortune-hunter's  work." 

The  carriage  stopped. 

"Monsieur  Pierre  Delarue?"  inquired  the  mistress. 

"Madame,  he  went  out  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago." 

"To  go  where?" 

"He  did  not  say." 

"Do  you  know  whether  he  will  be  absent  long?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Much  obliged." 

Madame  Desvarennes,  quite  discomfited  by  this 
mischance,  reflected.  Where  could  Pierre  have  gone? 
Probably  to  her  house.  Without  losing  a  minute,  she 
reentered  the  carriage,  and  gave  orders  to  return  to  the 
Rue  Saint-Dominique.  If  he  had  gone  at  once  to  her 
house,  it  was  plain  that  he  was  ready  to  do  anything  to 
keep  Micheline.  The  coachman  who  had  received  the 
order  drove  furiously.  She  said  to  herself: 

"  Pierre  is  in  a  cab.  Allowing  that  he  is  driving  mod- 
erately quick  he  will  only  have  half-an-hour's  start  of 
me.  He  will  pass  through  the  office,  will  see  Marechal, 
and  however  eager  he  be,  will  lose  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
in  chatting  to  him.  It  would  be  most  vexing  if  he  did 
anything  foolish  in  the  remaining  fifteen  minutes!  The 
fault  is  mine :  I  ought  to  have  sent  him  a  letter  at  Mar- 
seilles, to  tell  him  what  line  of  conduct  to  adopt  on  his 
arrival.  So  long  as  he  does  not  meet  Micheline  on  en- 
tering the  house !" 

At  that  idea  Madame  Desvarennes  felt  the  blood 
rushing  to  her  face.    She  put  her  head  out  of  the  car- 
riage window,  and  called  to  the  coachman : 
5  [65] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"Drive  faster!" 

He  drove  more  furiously  still,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
reached  the  Rue  Saint-Doniinique. 

She  tore  into  the  house  like  a  hurricane,  questioned 
the  hall-porter,  and  learned  that  Delarue  had  arrived. 
She  hastened  to  Marechal,  and  asked  him  in  such  a 
strange  manner,  "Have  you  seen  Pierre?"  that  he 
thought  some  accident  had  happened. 

On  seeing  her  secretary's  scared  look,  she  understood 
that  what  she  most  dreaded  had  come  to  pass.  She 
hurried  to  the  drawing-room,  calling  Pierre  in  a  loud 
voice.  The  French  window  opened,  and  she  found 
herself  face  to  face  with  the  young  man.  A  glance  at 
her  adopted  son's  face  increased  her  fears.  She  opened 
her  arms  and  clasped  Pierre  to  her  heart. 

After  the  first  emotions  were  over,  she  longed  to  know 
what  had  happened  during  her  absence,  and  inquired 
of  Pierre: 

"By  whom  were  you  received  on  arriving  here?" 

"ByMicheline." 

"That  is  what  I  feared!    What  did  she  tell  you?" 

"Everything!" 

In  three  sentences  these  two  strong  beings  had 
summed  up  all  that  had  taken  place.  Madame  Des- 
varennes  remained  silent  for  a  moment,  then,  with  sud- 
den tenderness,  and  as  if  to  make  up  for  her  daughter's 
treachery,  said: 

"Come,  let  me  kiss  you  again,  my  poor  boy.    You 

suffer,  eh?    and  I  too!    I  am  quite  overcome.     For 

ten  years  I  have  cherished  the  idea  of  your  marrying 

Micheline.    You  are  a  man  of  merit,  and  you  have  no 

[66] 


SERGE  PANINE 

relatives.  You  would  not  take  my  daughter  away  from 
me;  on  the  contrary  I  think  you  like  me,  and  would 
willingly  live  with  me.  In  arranging  this  marriage  I 
realized  the  dream  of  my  life.  I  was  not  taking  a  son- 
in-law — I  was  gaining  a  new  child." 

"Believe  me,"  said  Pierre,  sadly,  "it  is  not  my  fault 
that  your  wish  is  not  carried  out." 

"That,  my  boy,  is  another  question!"  cried  Madame 
Desvarennes,  whose  voice  was  at  once  raised  two  tones. 
"And  that  is  where  we  do  not  agree.  You  are  respon- 
sible for  what  has  occurred.  I  know  what  you  are  going 
to  tell  me.  You  wished  to  bring  laurels  to  Micheline 
as  a  dower.  That  is  all  nonsense!  When  one  leaves 
the  Polytechnic  School  with  honors,  and  with  a  future 
open  to  you  like  yours,  it  is  not  necessary  to  scour  the 
deserts  to  dazzle  a  young  girl.  One  begins  by  marry- 
ing her,  and  celebrity  comes  afterward,  at  the  same 
time  as  the  children.  And  then  there  was  no  need  to 
risk  all  at  such  a  cost.  What,  are  we  then  so  grand? 
Ex-bakers !  Millionaires,  certainly,  which  does  not  alter 
the  fact  that  poor  Desvarennes  carried  out  the  bread, 
and  that  I  gave  change  across  the  counter  when  folks 
came  to  buy  sou-cakes !  But  you  wanted  to  be  a  knight- 
errant,  and,  during  that  time,  a  handsome  fellow.  Did 
Micheline  tell  you  the  gentleman's  name?" 

"I  met  him  when  I  came  here;  he  was  with  her  in 
the  garden.  We  were  introduced  to  each  other." 

"That  was  good  taste,"  said  Madame  Desvarennes 
with  irony.  "Oh,  he  is  a  youth  who  is  not  easily  dis- 
turbed, and  in  his  most  passionate  transports  will  not 
disarrange  a  fold  of  his  cravat.  You  know  he  is  a 
[67] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

Prince?  That  is  most  flattering  to  the  Desvarennes! 
We  shall  use  his  coat-of-arms  as  our  trade-mark.  The 
fortune-hunter,  ugh!  No  doubt  he  said  to  himself: 
'The  baker  has  money — and  her  daughter  is  agree- 
able.' And  he  is  making  a  business  of  it." 

"He  is  only  following  the  example  of  many  of  his 
equals.  Marriage  is  to-day  the  sole  pursuit  of  the  no- 
bility." 

"The  nobility!  That  of  our  country  might  be  tol- 
erated, but  foreign  noblemen  are  mere  adventurers." 

"It  is  well  known  that  the  Panines  come  from  Posen 
— the  papers  have  mentioned  them  more  than  twenty 
times." 

"Why  is  he  not  in  his  own  country?" 

"He  is  exiled." 

"He  has  done  something  wrong,  then!" 

"He  has,  like  all  his  family,  fought  for  independence." 

"Then  he  is  a  revolutionist!" 

"A  patriot." 

"You  are  very  kind  to  tell  me  all  that." 

"I  may  hate  Prince  Panine,"  said  Pierre,  simply,  "but 
that  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not  be  just  to  him." 

"So  be  it;  he  is  an  exceptional  being,  a  great  citizen, 
a  hero,  if  you  like.  But  that  does  not  prove  that  he  will 
make  my  daughter  happy.  And  if  you  take  my  advice, 
we  shall  send  him  about  his  business  in  a  very  short 
time." 

Madame  Desvarennes  was  excited  and  paced  hur- 
riedly up  and  down  the  room.  The  idea  of  resuming 
the  offensive  after  she  had  been  forced  to  act  on  the 
defensive  for  months  past  pleased  her.  She  thought 
[68] 


SERGE  PANINE 

Pierre  argued  too  much.  A  woman  of  action,  she  did 
not  understand  why  Pierre  had  not  yet  come  to  a  reso- 
lution. She  felt  that  she  must  gain  his  confidence. 

"You  are  master  of  the  situation,"  she  said.  "The 
Prince  does  not  suit  me " 

"Micheline  loves  him,"  interrupted  Pierre. 

"She  fancies  so,"  replied  Madame  Desvarennes. 
"  She  has  got  it  into  her  head,  but  it  will  wear  off.  You 
thoroughly  understand  that  I  did  not  bid  you  to  come 
from  Africa  to  be  present  at  my  daughter's  wedding. 
If  you  are  a  man,  we  shall  see  some  fun.  Micheline  is 
your  betrothed.  You  have  our  word,  and  the  word  of  a 
Desvarennes  is  as  good  as  the  signature.  It  has  never 
been  dishonored.  Well,  refuse  to  give  us  back  our, 
promise.  Gain  time,  make  love,  and  take  my  daughter 
away  from  that  dandy." 

Pierre  remained  silent  for  a  few  minutes.  In  a  mo- 
ment he  measured  the  extent  of  the  mischief  done,  by 
seeing  Micheline  before  consulting  Madame  Desva- 
rennes. With  the  help  of  this  energetic  woman  he 
might  have  struggled,  whereas  left  to  his  own  strength, 
he  had  at  the  outset  been  vanquished  and  forced  to  lay 
down  his  arms.  Not  only  had  he  yielded,  but  he  had 
drawn  his  ally  into  his  defeat. 

"Your  encouragements  come  too  late,"  said  he. 
"Micheline  asked  me  to  give  her  back  her  promise,  and 
I  gave  it  to  her." 

"You  were  so  weak  as  that!"  cried  Madame  Desva- 
rennes. "And  she  had  so  much  boldness?  Does  she 
dote  on  him  so  ?  I  suspected  her  plans,  and  I  hastened 
to  warn  you.  But  all  is  not  lost.  You  have  given  Mi- 
[69] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

cheline  back  her  promise.  So  be  it.  But  I  have  not 
given  you  back  yours.  You  are  pledged  to  me.  I  will 
not  countenance  the  marriage  which  my  daughter  has 
arranged  without  my  consent !  Help  me  to  break  it  off. 
And,  faith,  you  could  easily  find  another  woman  worth 
Micheline,  but  where  shall  I  find  a  son-in-law  worth 
you  ?  Come,  the  happiness  of  us  all  is  in  peril ;  save  it ! " 

"Why  continue  the  struggle?  I  am  beaten  before- 
hand." 

"But  if  you  forsake  me,  what  can  I  do  single-handed 
with  Micheline?" 

"Do  what  she  wishes, as  usual.  You  are  surprised  at 
my  giving  you  this  advice  ?  It  is  no  merit  on  my  part. 
Until  now  you  have  refused  your  daughter's  request; 
but  if  she  comes  again  beseeching  and  crying,  you  who 
are  so  strong  and  can  say  so  well  'I  will,'  will  be  weak 
and  will  not  be  able  to  refuse  her  her  Prince.  Believe 
me;  consent  willingly.  Who  knows?  Your  son-in-law 
may  be  grateful  to  you  for  it  by-and-by." 

Madame  Desvarennes  had  listened  to  Pierre  with 
amazement. 

"Really,  you  are  incredible,"  she  said;  "you  discuss 
all  this  so  calmly.  Have  you  no  grief  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Pierre,  solemnly,  "it  is  almost  killing 
me." 

"Nonsense!  You  are  boasting!"  cried  Madame 
Desvarennes,  vehemently.  "Ah,  scholar!  figures  have 
dried  up  your  heart!" 

"No,"  replied  the  young  man,  with  melancholy, 
"but  work  has  destroyed  in  me  the  seductions  of  youth. 
It  has  made  me  thoughtful,  and  a  little  sad.  I  fright- 
[7o] 


SERGE  PANINE 

ened  Micheline,  instead  of  attracting  her.  The  worst  is 
that  we  live  in  such  a  state  of  high  pressure,  it  is  quite 
impossible  to  grasp  all  that  is  offered  to  us  in  this 
life — work  and  pleasure.  It  is  necessary  to  make  a 
choice,  to  economize  one's  time  and  strength,  and  to 
work  with  either  the  heart  or  the  brain  alone.  The  re- 
sult is  that  the  neglected  organ  wastes  away,  and  that 
men  of  pleasure  remain  all  their  lives  mediocre  workers, 
while  hard  workers  are  pitiful  lovers.  The  former  sac- 
rifice the  dignity  of  existence,  the  latter  that  which  is 
the  charm  of  existence.  So  that,  in  decisive  moments, 
when  the  man  of  pleasure  appeals  to  his  intelligence,  he 
finds  he  is  unfit  for  duty,  and  when  the  man  of  toil  ap- 
peals to  his  heart,  he  finds  that  he  is  unqualified  for 
happiness." 

"Well,  my  boy,  so  much  the  worse  for  the  women 
who  cannot  appreciate  men  of  work,  and  who  allow 
themselves  to  be  wheedled  by  men  of  pleasure.  I  never 
was  one  of  those;  and  serious  as  you  are,  thirty  years 
ago  I  would  have  jumped  at  you.  But  as  you  know 
your  ailment  so  well,  why  don't  you  cure  yourself  ?  The 
remedy  is  at  hand." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Strong  will.  Marry  Micheline.  I'll  answer  for 
everything." 

"She  does  not  love  me." 

"A  woman  always  ends  by  loving  her  husband." 

"  I  love  Micheline  too  much  to  accept  her  hand  with- 
out her  heart." 

Madame  Desvarennes  saw  that  she  would  gain  noth- 
ing, and  that  the  game  was  irrevocably  lost.  A  great 


GEORGES  OHNET 

sorrow  stole  over  her.  She  foresaw  a  dark  future,  and 
had  a  presentiment  that  trouble  had  entered  the  house 
with  Serge  Panine.  What  could  she  do?  Combat  the 
infatuation  of  her  daughter!  She  knew  that  life  would 
be  odious  for  her  if  Micheline  ceased  to  laugh  and  to 
sing.  Her  daughter's  tears  would  conquer  her  will. 
Pierre  had  told  her  truly.  Where  was  the  use  of  fight- 
ing when  defeat  was  certain  ?  She,  too,  felt  that  she  was 
powerless,  and  with  heartfelt  sorrow  came  to  a  deci- 
sion. 

"Come,  I  see  that  I  must  make  up  my  mind  to  be 
grandmother  to  little  princes.  It  pleases  me  but  little 
on  the  father's  account.  My  daughter  will  have  a  sad 
lot  with  a  fellow  of  that  kind.  Well,  he  had  better  keep 
in  the  right  path;  for  I  shall  be  there  to  call  him  to 
order.  Micheline  must  be  happy.  When  my  husband 
was  alive,  I  was  already  more  of  a  mother  than  a  wife; 
now  my  whole  life  is  wrapped  up  in  my  daughter." 

Then  raising  her  vigorous  arms  with  grim  energy, 
she  added : 

"Do  you  know,  if  my  daughter  were  made  miserable 
through  her  husband,  I  should  be  capable  of  killing 
him." 

These  were  the  last  words  of  the  interview  which  de- 
cided the  destiny  of  Micheline,  of  the  Prince,  of  Madame 
Desvarennes,  and  of  Pierre.  The  mistress  stretched 
out  her  hand  and  rang  the  bell.  A  servant  appeared, 
to  whom  she  gave  instructions  to  tell  Marechal  to  come 
down.  She  thought  it  would  be  pleasant  for  Pierre  i\j 
pour  out  his  griefs  into  the  heart  of  his  friend.  A  man 
weeps  with  difficulty  before  a  woman,  and  she  guessed 
[72] 


SERGE  PANINE 

that  the  young  man's  heart  was  swollen  with  tears. 
Marechal  was  not  far  off.  He  arrived  in  a  moment, 
and  springing  toward  Pierre  put  his  arms  round  his 
neck.  When  Madame  Desvarennes  saw  the  two  friends 
fully  engrossed  with  each  other,  she  said  to  Marechal : 

"I  give  you  leave  until  this  evening.  Then  bring 
Pierre  back  with  you;  I  wish  to  see  him  after  dinner." 

And  with  a  firm  step  she  went  toward  Micheline's 
room,  where  the  latter  was  waiting  in  fear  to  know  the 
result  of  the  interview. 


[731 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  SIGNIFICANT  MEETING 

[E  mansion  in  the  Rue  Saint-Domi- 
nique is  certainly  one  of  the  finest  to 
be  seen.  Sovereigns  alone  have  more 
sumptuous  palaces.  The  wide  stair- 
case, of  carved  oak,  is  bordered  by  a 
bronze  balustrade,  made  by  Ghirlan- 
dajo,  and  brought  from  Florence  by 
Sommervieux,  the  great  dealer  in  cu- 
riosities. Baron  Rothschild  would  consent  to  give  only 
a  hundred  thousand  francs  for  it.  Madame  Desva- 
rennes  bought  it.  The  large  panels  of  the  staircase  are 
hung  with  splendid  tapestry,  from  designs  by  Boucher, 
representing  the  different  metamorphoses  of  Jupiter. 
At  £ach  landing-place  stands  a  massive  Japanese  vase 
of  cloisonne  enamel,  supported  by  a  tripod  of  Chinese 
bronze,  representing  chimeras.  On  the  first  floor,  tall 
columns  of  red  granite,  crowned  by  gilt  capitals,  divide 
the  staircase  from  a  gallery,  serving  as  a  conservatory. 
Plaited  blinds  of  crimson  silk  hang  before  the  Gothic 
windows,  filled  with  marvellous  stained  glass. 

In  the  vestibule — the  hangings  of  which  are  of  Cor- 

dova  leather,  with  gold  ground — seemingly  awaiting  the 

good  pleasure  of  some  grand  lady,  is  a  sedan-chair,  dec- 

orated  with  paintings  by  Fragonard.     Farther  on,  there 

[74] 


SERGE  PANINE 

is  one  of  those  superb  carved  mother-of-pearl  coffers, 
in  which  Oriental  women  lay  by  their  finery  and  jewel- 
lery. A  splendid  Venetian  mirror,  its  frame  embellished 
with  tiny  figure  subjects,  and  measuring  two  metres  in 
width  and  three  in  height,  fills  a  whole  panel  of  the 
vestibule.  Portieres  of  Chinese  satin,  ornamented 
with  striking  embroidery,  such  as  figures  on  a  priest's 
chasuble,  fall  in  sumptuous  folds  at  the  drawing-room 
and  dining-room  doors. 

The  drawing-room  contains  a  splendid  set  of  Louis 
Quatorze  furniture,  of  gilt  wood,  upholstered  in  fine 
tapestry,  in  an  extraordinary  state  of  preservation. 
Three  crystal  lustres,  hanging  at  intervals  along  the 
room,  sparkle  like  diamonds.  The  hangings,  of  woven 
silk  and  gold,  are  those  which  were  sent  as  a  present  by 
Louis  Quatorze  to  Monsieur  de  Pimentel,  the  Spanish 
Ambassador,  to  reward  him  for  the  part  he  had  taken  in 
the  conclusion  of  the  Treaty  of  the  Pyrenees.  These 
hangings  are  unique,  and  were  brought  back  from 
Spain  in  1814,  in  the  baggage-train  of  Soult's  army,  and 
sold  to  an  inhabitant  of  Toulouse  for  ten  thousand 
francs.  It  was  there  that  Madame  Desvarennes  dis- 
covered them  in  a  garret  in  1864,  neglected  by  the  grand- 
children of  the  buyer,  who  were  ignorant  of  the  im- 
mense value  of  such  unrivalled  work.  Cleverly  mended, 
they  are  to-day  the  pride  of  the  great  trader's  drawing- 
room.  On  the  mantelpiece  there  is  a  large  clock  in 
Chinese  lacquer,  ornamented  with  gilt  bronze,  made  on 
a  model  sent  out  from  Paris  in  the  reign  of  Louis 
Quatorze,  and  representing  the  Flight  of  the  Hours 
pursued  by  Time. 

[75] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

Adjoining  the  great  drawing-room  is  a  boudoir  up- 
holstered in  light  gray  silk  damask,  with  bouquets  of 
flowers.  This  is  Madame  Desvarennes's  favorite  room. 
A  splendid  Erard  piano  occupies  one  side  of  the  apart- 
ment. Facing  it  is  a  sideboard  in  sculptured  ebony,  en- 
riched with  bronze,  by  Gouthieres.  There  are  only  two 
pictures  on  the  walls:  "The  Departure  of  the  Newly 
Married  Couple,"  exquisitely  painted  by  Lancret;  and 
"The  Prediction,"  an  adorable  work  by  Watteau, 
bought  at  an  incredible  price  at  the  Pourtales  sale. 
Over  the  chimney-piece  is  a  miniature  by  Pommayrac, 
representing  Micheline  as  a  little  child — a  treasure 
which  Madame  Desvarennes  cannot  behold  without 
tears  coming  to  her  eyes.  A  door,  hidden  by  curtains, 
opens  on  to  a  staircase  leading  directly  to  the  courtyard. 

The  dining-room  is  in  the  purest  Renaissance  style: 
austere  woodwork;  immense  chests  of  carved  pear- 
wood,  on  which  stand  precious  ewers  in  Urbino  ware, 
and  dishes  by  Bernard  Palissy.  The  high  stone  fire- 
place is  surmounted  by  a  portrait  of  Diana  of  Poitiers, 
with  a  crescent  on  her  brow,  and  is  furnished  with  fire- 
dogs  of  elaborately  worked  iron.  The  centre  panel 
bears  the  arms  of  Admiral  Bonnivet.  Stained -glass 
windows  admit  a  softly-tinted  light.  From  the  magnifi- 
cently painted  ceiling,  a  chandelier  of  brass  repousse 
work  hangs  from  the  claws  of  a  hovering  eagle. 

The  billiard-room  is  in  the  Indian  style.  Magnificent 
panoplies  unite  Rajpoot  shields,  Mahratta  scimitars, 
helmets  with  curtains  of  steel,  rings  belonging  to  Afghan 
chiefs,  and  long  lances  ornamented  with  white  mares' 
tails,  wielded  by  the  horsemen  of  Cabul.  The  walls  are 
[76] 


SERGE  PANINE 

painted  from  designs  brought  from  Lahore.  The  pan- 
els of  the  doors  were  decorated  by  Gerome.  The  great 
artist  has  painted  Nautch  girls  twisting  their  floating 
scarves,  and  jugglers  throwing  poignards  into  the  air. 
Around  the  room  are  low  divans,  covered  with  soft  and 
brilliant  Oriental  cloth.  The  chandelier  is  quite  origi- 
nal in  form,  being  the  exact  representation  of  the  god 
Vishnu.  From  the  centre  of  the  body  hangs  a  lotus  leaf 
of  emeralds,  and  from  each  of  the  four  arms  is  sus- 
pended a  lamp  shaped  like  a  Hindu  pagoda,  which 
throws  out  a  mellow  light. 

Madame  Desvarennes  was  entertaining  her  visitors 
in  these  celebrated  apartments  that  evening.  Marechal 
and  Pierre  had  just  come  in,  and  were  talking  together 
near  the  fireplace.  A  few  steps  from  them  was  a  group, 
consisting  of  Cayrol,  Madame  Desvarennes,  and  a 
third  person,  who  had  never  until  then  put  his  foot  in 
the  house,  in  spite  of  intercessions  in  his  favor  made  by 
the  banker  to  Madame  Desvarennes.  He  was  a  tall, 
pale,  thin  man,  whose  skin  seemed  stretched  on  his 
bones,  with  a  strongly  developed  under- jaw,  like  that  of 
a  ravenous  animal,  and  eyes  of  indefinable  color,  always 
changing,  and  veiled  behind  golden-rimmed  spectacles. 
His  hands  were  soft  and  smooth,  with  moist  palms  and 
closely  cut  nails — vicious  hands,  made  to  take  cunningly 
what  they  coveted.  He  had  scanty  hair,  of  a  pale  yel- 
low, parted  just  above  the  ear,  so  as  to  enable  him  to 
brush  it  over  the  top  of  his  head.  This  personage,  clad 
in  a  double-breasted  surtout,  over  a  white  waistcoat,  and 
wearing  a  many-colored  rosette,  was  called  Hermanp 
Herzog. 

[77] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

A  daring  financier,  he  had  come  from  Luxembourg, 
preceded  by  a  great  reputation;  and,  in  a  few  months, 
he  had  launched  in  Paris  such  a  series  of  important 
affairs  that  the  big-wigs  on  the  Exchange  felt  bound  to 
treat  with  him.  There  were  many  rumors  current 
about  him.  Some  said  he  was  the  most  intelligent, 
most  active,  and  most  scrupulous  of  men  that  it  was 
possible  to  meet.  Others  said  that  no  greater  scoundrel 
had  ever  dared  the  vengeance  of  the  law,  after  plunder- 
ing honest  people.  Of  German  nationality,  those  who 
cried  him  down  said  he  was  born  at  Mayence.  Those 
who  treated  the  rumors  as  legends  said  he  was  born 
at  Frankfort,  the  most  Gallic  town  beyond  the  river 
Rhine. 

He  had  just  completed  an  important  line  of  railway 
from  Morocco  to  the  centre  of  our  colony  in  Algeria, 
and  now  he  was  promoting  a  company  for  exporting 
grain  and  flour  from  America.  Several  times  Cayrol 
had  tried  to  bring  Herzog  and  Madame  Desvarennes 
together.  The  banker  had  an  interest  in  the  grain 
and  flour  speculation,  but  he  asserted  that  it  would 
not  succeed  unless  the  mistress  had  a  hand  in  it. 
Cayrol  had  a  blind  faith  in  the  mistress's  luck. 

Madame  Desvarennes,  suspicious  of  everything  for- 
eign, and  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  rumors  circu- 
lated respecting  Herzog,  had  always  refused  to  receive 
him.  But  Cayrol  had  been  so  importunate  that,  being 
quite  tired  of  refusing,  and,  besides,  being  willing  to 
favor  Cayrol  for  having  so  discreetly  managed  the  ne- 
gotiations of  Micheline's  marriage,  she  had  consented. 

Herzog  had  just  arrived.  He  was  expressing  to  Ma- 
[78] 


SERGE  PANINE 

\ 

dame  Desvarennes  his  delight  at  being  admitted  to  her 
house.  He  had  so  often  heard  her  highly  spoken  of  that 
he  had  formed  a  high  idea  of  her,  but  one  which  was, 
however,  far  below  the  reality;  he  understood  now  that 
it  was  an  honor  to  be  acquainted  with  her.  He  wheedled 
her  with  German  grace,  and  with  a  German- Jewish 
accent,  which  reminds  one  of  the  itinerant  merchants, 
who  offer  you  with  persistence  "a  goot  pargain." 

The  mistress  had  been  rather  cold  at  first,  but  Her- 
zog's  amiability  had  thawed  her.  This  man,  with  his 
slow  speech  and  queer  eyes,  produced  a  fascinating 
effect  on  one  like  a  serpent.  He  was  repugnant,  and 
yet,  in  spite  of  one's  self  one  was  led  on.  He  had  at  once 
introduced  the  grain  question,  but  in  this  he  found  him- 
self face  to  face  with  the  real  Madame  Desvarennes; 
and  no  politeness  held  good  on  her  part  when  it  was  a 
question  of  business.  From  his  first  words,  she  had 
found  a  weak  point  in  the  plan,  and  had  attacked  him 
with  such  plainness  that  the  financier,  seeing  his  en- 
terprise collapse  at  the  sound  of  the  mistress's  voice — 
like  the  walls  of  Jericho  at  the  sound  of  the  Jewish 
trumpets — had  beaten  a  retreat,  and  had  changed  the 
subject. 

He  was  about  to  float  a  credit  and  discount  company 
superior  to  any  in  the  world.  He  would  come  back  and 
talk  with  Madame  Desvarennes  about  it,  because  she 
ought  to  participate  in  the  large  profits  which  the  mat- 
ter promised.  There  was  no  risk.  The  novelty  of  the 
undertaking  consisted  in  the  concurrence  of  the  largest 
banking-houses  of  France  and  abroad,  which  would 
hinder  all  competition,  and  prevent  hostility  on  the 
[79] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

part  of  the  great  money-handlers.  It  was  very  curious, 
and  Madame  Desvarennes  would  feel  great  satisfaction 
in  knowing  the  mechanism  of  this  company,  destined  to 
become,  from  the  first,  the  most  important  in  the  world, 
and  yet  most  easy  to  understand. 

Madame  Desvarennes  neither  said  "Yes"  nor  "No." 
Moved  by  the  soft  and  insinuating  talkativeness  of 
Herzog,  she  felt  herself  treading  on  dangerous  ground. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  her  foot  was  sinking,  as  in  those 
dangerous  peat-mosses  of  which  the  surface  is  covered 
with  green  grass,  tempting  one  to  run  on  it.  Cayrol 
was  under  the  charm.  He  drank  in  the  German's  words. 
This  clever  man,  who  had  never  till  then  been  duped, 
had  found  his  master  in  Herzog. 

Pierre  and  Marechal  had  come  nearer,  and  Madame 
Desvarennes,  profiting  by  this  mingling  of  groups,  in- 
troduced the  men  to  each  other.  On  hearing  the  name 
of  Pierre  Delarue,  Herzog  looked  thoughtful,  and  asked 
if  the  young  man  was  the  renowned  engineer  whose 
works  on  the  coast  of  Africa  had  caused  so  much  talk  in 
Europe?  On  Madame  Desvarennes  replying  in  the 
affirmative,  he  showered  well-chosen  compliments  on 
Pierre.  He  had  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Delarue  in 
Algeria,  when  he  had  gone  over  to  finish  the  railroad  in 
Morocco. 

But  Pierre  had  stepped  back  on  learning  that  the 
•constructor  of  that  important  line  was  before  him. 

"Ah!  is  it  you,  sir,  who  carried  out  that  job?"  said 
he.  "Faith!  you  treated  those  poor  Moors  rather 
hardly!" 

He  remembered  the  misery  of  the  poor  natives  em- 
[80] 


SERGE  PANINE 

ployed  by  Europeans  who  superintended  the  work. 
Old  men,  women,  and  children  were  placed  at  the  dis- 
posal of  the  contractors  by  the  native  authorities,  to  dig 
up  and  remove  the  soil;  and  these  poor  wretches, 
crushed  with  hard  work,  and  driven  with  the  lash  by 
drunken  overseers — who  commanded  them  with  a  pis- 
tol in  hand — under  a  burning  sun,  inhaled  the  noxious 
vapors  arising  from  the  upturned  soil,  and  died  like  flies. 
It  was  a  terrible  sight,  and  one  that  Pierre  could  not 
forget. 

But  Herzog,  with  his  cajoling  sweetness,  protested 
against  this  exaggerated  picture.  Delarue  had  arrived 
during  the  dog-days — a  bad  time.  And  then  it  was 
necessary  for  the  work  to  be  carried  on  without  delay. 
Besides,  a  few  Moors,  more  or  less — what  did  it  matter? 
Negroes,  all  but  monkeys! 

Marechal,  who  had  listened  silently  until  then,  inter- 
rupted the  conversation,  to  defend  the  monkeys  in  the 
name  of  Littre.  He  had  framed  a  theory,  founded  on 
Darwin,  and  tending  to  prove  that  men  who  despised 
monkeys  despised  themselves.  Herzog,  a  little  taken 
aback  by  this  unexpected  reply,  had  looked  at  Marechal 
slyly,  asking  himself  if  it  was  a  joke.  But,  seeing  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes  laugh,  he  recovered  his  self-posses- 
sion. Business  could  not  be  carried  on  in  the  East  as 
in  Europe.  And  then,  had  it  not  always  been  thus? 
Had  not  all  the  great  discoverers  worked  the  countries 
which  they  discovered?  Christopher  Columbus,  Cor- 
tez — had  they  not  taken  riches  from  the  Indians,  in  ex- 
change for  the  civilization  which  they  brought  them? 
He  (Herzog)  had,  in  making  a  railway  in  Morocco, 
6  [81] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

given  the  natives  the  means  of  civilizing  themselves.  It 
was  only  fair  that  it  should  cost  them  something. 

Herzog  uttered  his  tirade  with  all  the  charm  of  which 
he  was  capable;  he  looked  to  the  right  and  to  the  left  to 
notice  the  effect.  He  saw  nothing  but  constrained  faces. 
It  seemed  as  if  they  were  expecting  some  one  or  some- 
thing. Time  was  passing;  ten  o'clock  had  just  struck. 
From  the  little  boudoir  sounds  of  music  were  occa- 
sionally heard,  when  Micheline's  nervous  hand  struck 
a  louder  chord  on  her  piano.  She  was  there,  anxiously 
awaiting  some  one  or  something.  Jeanne  de  Cernay, 
stretched  in  an  easy-chair,  her  head  leaning  on  her 
hand,  was  dreaming. 

During  the  past  three  weeks  the  young  girl  had 
changed.  Her  bright  wit  no  longer  enlivened  Michel- 
ine's indolent  calmness;  her  brilliant  eyes  were  sur- 
rounded by  blue  rings,  which  denoted  nights  passed 
without  sleep.  The  change  coincided  strangely  with 
Prince  Panine's  departure  for  England,  and  the  sending 
of  the  letter  which  recalled  Pierre  to  Paris.  Had  the 
inhabitants  of  the  mansion  been  less  occupied  with  their 
own  troubles,  they  would  no  doubt  have  noticed  this 
sudden  change,  and  have  sought  to  know  the  reason. 
But  the  attention  of  all  was  concentrated  on  the  events 
which  had  already  troubled  them,  and  which  would  no 
doubt  be  yet  more  serious  to  the  house,  until  lately  so 
quiet. 

The  visitors'  bell  sounded,  and  caused  Micheline  to 

rise.    The  blood  rushed  to  her  cheeks.    She  whispered, 

"It  is  he!"  and,  hesitating,  she  remained  a  moment 

leaning  on  the  piano,  listening  vaguely  to  the  sounds  in 

[82] 


SERGE  PANINE 

the  drawing-room.     The  footman's  voice  announcing 
the  visitor  reached  the  young  girls : 

"  Prince  Panine." 

Jeanne  also  rose  then,  and  if  Micheline  had  turned 
round  she  would  have  been  frightened  at  the  pallor  of 
her  companion.  But  Mademoiselle  Desvarennes  was 
not  thinking  of  Mademoiselle  de  Cernay;  she  had  just 
raised  the  heavy  door  curtain,  and  calling  to  Jeanne, 
"Are  you  coming?"  passed  into  the  drawing-room. 

It  was  indeed  Prince  Serge,  who  was  expected  by 
Cayrol  with  impatience,  by  Madame  Desvarennes  with 
silent  irritation,  by  Pierre  with  deep  anguish.  The 
handsome  prince,  calm  and  smiling,  with  white  cravat 
and  elegantly  fitting  dress-coat  which  showed  off  his 
fine  figure,  advanced  toward  Madame  Desvarennes  be- 
fore whom  he  bowed.  He  seemed  only  to  have  seen  Mi- 
cheline's  mother.  Not  a  look  for  the  two  young  girls  or 
the  men  who  were  around  him.  The  rest  of  the  uni- 
verse did  not  seem  to  count.  He  bent  as  if  before  a 
queen,  with  a  dash  of  respectful  adoration.  He  seemed 
to  be  saying: 

"Here  I  am  at  your  feet;  my  life  depends  on  you; 
make  a  sign  and  I  shall  be  the  happiest  of  men  or  the 
most  miserable." 

Micheline  followed  him  with  eyes  full  of  pride;  she 
admired  his  haughty  grace  and  his  caressing  humility. 
It  was  by  these  contrasts  that  Serge  had  attracted  the 
young  girl's  notice.  She  felt  herself  face  to  face  with  a 
strange  nature,  different  from  men  around  her,  and  had 
become  interested  in  him.  Then  he  had  spoken  to  her, 
and  his  sweet  penetrating  voice  had  touched  her  heart. 
[83] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

What  he  had  achieved  with  Micheline  he  longed  to 
achieve  with  her  mother.  After  placing  himself  at  the 
feet  of  the  mother  of  her  whom  he  loved,  he  sought  the 
road  to  her  heart.  He  took  his  place  beside  the  mistress 
and  spoke.  He  hoped  that  Madame  Desvarennes 
would  excuse  the  haste  of  his  visit.  The  obedience 
which  he  had  shown  in  going  away  must  be  a  proof  to 
her  of  his  submission  to  her  wishes.  He  was  her  most 
devoted  and  respectful  servant.  He  resigned  himself  to 
anything  she  might  exact  of  him. 

Madame  Desvarennes  listened  to  that  sweet  voice; 
she  had  never  heard  it  so  full  of  charm.  She  under- 
stood what  influence  this  sweetness  had  exercised  over 
Micheline ;  she  repented  not  having  watched  over  her 
more  carefully,  and  cursed  the  hour  that  had  brought 
all  this  evil  upon  them.  She  was  obliged,  however,  to 
answer  him.  The  mistress  went  straight  to  the  point. 
She  was  not  one  to  beat  about  the  bush  when  once  her 
mind  was  made  up. 

"You  come,  no  doubt,  sir,  to  receive  an  answer  to  the 
request  you  addressed  to  me  before  your  departure  for 
England!" 

The  Prince  turned  slightly  pale.  The  words  which 
Madame  Desvarennes  was  about  to  pronounce  were  of 
such  importance  to  him  that  he  could  not  help  feeling 
moved.  He  answered,  in  a  suppressed  tone: 

"I  would  not  have  dared  to  speak  to  you  on  the  sub- 
ject, Madame,  especially  in  public;  but  since  you  anti- 
cipate my  desire,  I  admit  I  am  waiting  with  deep  anxiety 
for  one  word  from  you  which  will  decide  my  fate." 

He  continued  bent  before  Madame  Desvarennes  like 
[84] 


SERGE  PANINE 

a  culprit  before  his  judge.  The  mistress  was  silent  for 
a  moment,  as  if  hesitating  before  answering,  and  then 
said,  gravely: 

"That  word  I  hesitated  to  pronounce,  but  some  one 
in  whom  I  have  great  confidence  has  advised  me  to  re- 
ceive you  favorably." 

"He,  Madame,  whoever  he  may  be,  has  gained  my 
everlasting  gratitude." 

"Show  it  to  him,"  said  Madame  Desvarennes;  "he 
is  the  companion  of  Micheline's  young  days,  almost  a 
son  to  me." 

And  turning  toward  Pierre,  she  pointed  him  out  to 
Panine. 

Serge  took  three  rapid  strides  toward  Pierre,  but 
quick  as  he  had  been  Micheline  was  before  him.  Each 
of  the  lovers  seized  a  hand  of  Pierre,  and  pressed  it  with 
tender  effusion.  Panine,  with  his  Polish  impetuosity, 
was  making  the  most  ardent  protestations  to  Pierre — 
he  would  be  indebted  to  him  for  life. 

Micheline's  late  betrothed,  with  despair  in  his  heart, 
allowed  his  hands  to  be  pressed  and  wrung  in  silence. 
The  voice  of  her  whom  he  loved  brought  tears  to  his 
eyes. 

"How  generous  and  good  you  are!"  said  the  young 
girl,  "how  nobly  you  have  sacrificed  yourself!" 

"Don't  thank  me,"  replied  Pierre;  "I  have  no  merit 
in  accomplishing  what  you  admire.  I  am  weak,  you 
see,  and  I  could  not  bear  to  see  you  suffer." 

There  was  a  great  commotion  in  the  drawing-room. 
Cayrol  was  explaining  to  Herzog,  who  was  listening 
with  great  attention,  what  was  taking  place.  Serge 
[85] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

Panine  was  to  be  Madame  Desvarennes's  son-in-law. 
It  was  a  great  event. 

"Certainly,"  said  the  German;  "Madame  Desva- 
rennes's son-in-law  will  become  a  financial  power.  And 
a  Prince,  too.  What  a  fine  name  for  a  board  of  di- 
rectors!" 

The  two  financiers  looked  at  each  other  for  a  mo- 
ment; the  same  thought  had  struck  them. 

"Yes,  but,"  replied  Cayrol,  "Madame  Desvarennes 
will  never  allow  Panine  to  take  part  in  business." 

"Who  knows ? "  said  Herzog.  "We  shall  see  how  the 
marriage  settlements  are  drawn  up." 

"But,"  cried  Cayrol,  "I  would  not  have  it  said  that 
I  was  leading  Madame  Desvarennes's  son-in-law  into 
speculations." 

"Who  is  speaking  of  that?"  replied  Herzog,  coldly. 
"Am  I  seeking  shareholders?  I  have  more  money  than 
I  want;  I  refuse  millions  every  day." 

"Oh,  I  know  capitalists  run  after  you,"  said  Cayrol, 
laughingly;  "and  to  welcome  them  you  affect  the  scru- 
ples of  a  pretty  woman.  But  let  us  go  and  congratulate 
the  Prince." 

While  Cayrol  and  Herzog  were  exchanging  those  few 
words  which  had  such  a  considerable  influence  on  the 
future  of  Serge  Panine — a  scene,  terrible  in  its  simpli- 
city, was  going  on  without  being  noticed.  Micheline 
had  thrown  herself  with  a  burst  of  tenderness  into  her 
mother's  arms.  Serge  was  deeply  affected  by  the  young 
girl's  affection  for  him,  when  a  trembling  hand  touched 
his  arm.  He  turned  round.  Jeanne  de  Cernay  was 
before  him,  pale  and  wan;  her  eyes  sunken  into  her 
[86] 


SERGE  FAMINE 

head  like  two  black  nails,  and  her  lips  tightened  by  a 
violent  contraction.  The  Prince  stood  thunderstruck 
at  the  sight  of  her.  He  looked  around  him.  Nobody 
was  observing  him.  Pierre  was  beside  Marechal,  who 
was  whispering  those  words  which  only  true  friends 
can  find  in  the  sad  hours  of  life.  Madame  Desvarennes 
was  holding  Micheline  in  her  arms.  Serge  approached 
Mademoiselle  de  Cernay.  Jeanne  still  fixed  on  him  the 
same  menacing  look.  He  was  afraid. 

"Take  care!  "he  said. 

"Of  what?"  asked  the  young  girl,  with  a  troubled 
voice .  "  What  have  I  to  fear  now  ? ' ' 

"What  do  you  wish?"  resumed  Panine,  with  cold 
firmness,  and  with  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"I  wish  to  speak  with  you  immediately." 

"You  see  that  is  impossible." 

"I  must." 

Cayrol  and  Herzog  approached.  Serge  smiled  at 
Jeanne  with  a  sign  of  the  head  which  meant  "Yes." 
The  young  girl  turned  away  in  silence,  awaiting  the  ful- 
filment of  the  promise  made. 

Cayrol  took  her  by  the  hand  with  tender  familiarity. 

"What  were  you  saying  to  the  happy  man  who  has 
gained  the  object  of  his  dreams,  Mademoiselle?  It  is 
not  to  him  you  must  speak,  but  to  me,  to  give  me  hope. 
The  moment  is  propitious;  it  is  the  day  for  betrothals. 
You  know  how  much  I  love  you ;  do  me  the  favor  of  no 
longer  repulsing  me  as  you  have  done  hitherto !  If  you 
would  be  kind,  how  charming  it  would  be  to  celebrate 
the  two  weddings  on  the  same  day.  One  church,  one 
ceremony,  one  splendid  feast  would  unite  two  happy 
[87] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

couples.    Is  there  nothing  in   this  picture    to   entice 
you?" 

"I  am  not  easily  enticed,  as  you  know,"  said  Jeanne, 
in  a  firm  voice,  trying  to  smile. 

Micheline  and  Madame  Desvarennes  had  drawn 
near. 

"Come,  Cayrol,"  said  Serge,  in  a  tone  of  command; 
"I  am  happy  to-day;  perhaps  I  may  succeed  in  your 
behalf  as  I  have  done  in  my  own.  Let  me  plead  your 
cause  with  Mademoiselle  de  Cernay?" 

"With  all  my  heart.  I  need  an  eloquent  pleader," 
sighed  the  banker,  shaking  his  head  sadly. 

"And  you,  Mademoiselle,  will  you  submit  to  the 
trial?"  asked  the  Prince,  turning  toward  Jeanne.  "We 
have  always  been  good  friends,  and  I  shall  be  almost  a 
brother  to  you.  This  gives  me  some  right  over  your 
mind  and  heart,  it  seems  to  me.  Do  you  authorize  me 
to  exercise  it?" 

"As  you  like,  sir,"  answered  Jeanne,  coldly.  "The 
attempt  is  novel.  Who  knows?  Perhaps  it  will  suc- 
ceed!" 

"May  Heaven  grant  it,"  said  Cayrol.  Then,  ap- 
proaching Panine: 

"Ah!  dear  Prince,  what  gratitude  I  shall  owe  you! 
You  know,"  added  he  in  a  whisper,  "if  you  need  a  few 
thousand  louis  for  wedding  presents " 

"Go,  go,  corrupter!"  replied  Serge,  with  the  same 
forced  gayety;  "you  are  flashing  your  money  in  front  of 
us.  You  see  it  is  not  invincible,  as  you  are  obliged  to 
have  recourse  to  my  feeble  talents.  But  know  that  I 
am  working  for  glory." 

[88] 


SERGE  PANINE 

And  turning  toward  Madame  Desvarennes  he  added : 

"I  only  ask  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

"Don't  defend  yourself  too  much,"  said  Micheline 
in  her  companion's  ear,  and  giving  her  a  tender  kiss 
which  the  latter  did  not  return. 

"Come  with  me,"  said  Micheline  to  Pierre,  offering 
him  her  arm;  "I  want  to  belong  to  you  alone  while 
Serge  is  pleading  with  Jeanne.  I  will  be  your  sister  as 
formerly.  If  you  only  knew  how  I  love  you ! " 

The  large  French  window  which  led  to  the  garden 
had  just  been  opened  by  Marechal,  and  the  mild  odors 
of  a  lovely  spring  night  perfumed  the  drawing-room. 
They  all  went  out  on  the  lawn.  Thousands  of  stars 
were  twinkling  in  the  sky,  and  the  eyes  of  Micheline 
and  Pierre  were  lifted  toward  the  dark  blue  heavens 
seeking  vaguely  for  the  star  which  presided  over  their 
destiny.  She,  to  know  whether  her  life  would  be  the  long 
poem  of  love  of  which  she  dreamed ;  he,  to  ask  whether 
glory,  that  exacting  mistress  for  whom  he  had  made  so 
many  sacrifices,  would  at  least  comfort  him  for  his  lost 
love. 


CHAPTER  VII 

JEANNE'S  SECRET 

[N  the  drawing-room  Jeanne  and  Serge 
remained  standing,  facing  each  other. 
The  mask  had  fallen  from  their  faces; 
the  forced  smile  had  disappeared. 
They  looked  at  each  other  attentive- 
ly, like  two  duellists  seeking  to  read 
each  other's  game,  so  that  they  may 
ward  off  the  fatal  stroke  and  pre- 
pare the  decisive  parry. 

"Why  did  you  leave  for  England  three  weeks  ago, 
without  seeing  me  and  without  speaking  to  me?" 

"  What  could  I  have  said  to  you  ?"  replied  the  Prince, 
with  an  air  of  fatigue  and  dejection. 

Jeanne  flashed  a  glance  brilliant  as  lightning: 
"You  could  have  told  me  that  you  had  just  asked  for 
Micheline'shand!" 
"That  would  have  been  brutal!" 
"It  would  have  been  honest!    But  it  would  have  ne- 
cessitated an  explanation,  and  you  don't  like  explaining. 
You  have  preferred  leaving  me  to  guess  this  news  from 
the  acts  of  those  around  me,  and  the  talk  of  strangers." 
All  these  words  had  been  spoken  by  Jeanne  with  fe- 
verish vivacity.   The  sentences  were  as  cutting  as  strokes 
from  a  whip.    The  young  girl's  agitation  was  violent; 

r9o] 


SERGE  PANINE 

her  cheeks  were  red,  and  her  breathing  was  hard  and 
stifled  with  emotion.  She  stopped  for  a  moment;  then, 
turning  toward  the  Prince,  and  looking  him  full  in  the 
face,  she  said : 

"And  so,  this  marriage  is  decided?" 

Serge  answered, 

"Yes." 

It  was  fainter  than  a  whisper.  As  if  she  could  not 
believe  it,  Jeanne  repeated: 

"You  are  going  to  marry  Micheline?" 

And  as  Panine  in  a  firmer  voice  answered  again, 
"Yes!"  the  young  girl  took  two  rapid  steps  and  brought 
her  flushed  face  close  to  him. 

"And  I,  then?"  she  cried  with  a  violence  she  could 
no  longer  restrain. 

Serge  made  a  sign.  The  drawing-room  window  was 
still  open,  and  from  outside  they  could  be  heard. 

"  Jeanne,  in  mercy  calm  yourself,"  replied  he.  "You 
are  in  a  state  of  excitement." 

"Which  makes  you  uncomfortable?"  interrupted  the 
young  girl  mockingly. 

"Yes,  but  for  your  sake  only,"  said  he,  coldly. 

"For  mine?" 

"Certainly.  I  fear  your  committing  an  imprudence 
which  might  harm  you." 

"Yes;  but  you  with  me!  And  it  is  that  only  which 
makes  you  afraid." 

The  Prince  looked  at  Mademoiselle  de  Cernay,  smil- 
ingly. Changing  his  tone,  he  took  her  hand  in  his. 

"How  naughty  you  are  to-night!  And  what  temper 
you  are  showing  toward  poor  Serge!  What  an  opinion 


GEORGES  OHNET 

he  will  have  of  himself  after  your  displaying  such  a 
flattering  scene  of  jealousy!" 

Jeanne  drew  away  her  hand. 

"Ah,  don't  try  to  joke.  This  is  not  the  moment,  I 
assure  you.  You  don't  exactly  realize  your  situation. 
Don't  you  understand  that  I  am  prepared  to  tell  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes  everything " 

"Everything!"  said  the  Prince.  "In  truth,  it  would 
not  amount  to  much.  You  would  tell  her  that  I  met 
you  in  England;  that  I  courted  you,  and  that  you 
found  my  attentions  agreeable.  And  then  ?  It  pleases 
you  to  think  too  seriously  of  that  midsummer  night's 
dream  under  the  great  trees  of  Churchill  Castle,  and 
you  reproach  me  for  my  errors!  But  what  are  they? 
Seriously,  I  do  not  see  them!  We  lived  in  a  noisy 
world,  where  we  enjoyed  the  liberty  which  English 
manners  allow  to  young  people.  Your  aunt  found  no 
fault  with  the  charming  chatter  which  the  English  call 
flirtation.  I  told  you  I  loved  you;  you  allowed  me  to 
think  that  I  was  not  displeasing  to  you.  We,  thanks  to 
that  delightful  agreement,  spent  a  most  agreeable  sum- 
mer, and  now  you  do  not  wish  to  put  an  end  to  that 
pleasant  little  excursion  made  beyond  the  limits  drawn 
by  our  Parisian  world,  so  severe,  whatever  people  say 
about  it.  It  is  not  reasonable,  and  it  is  imprudent.  If 
you  carry  out  your  menacing  propositions,  and  if  you 
take  my  future  mother-in-law  as  judge  of  the  rights 
which  you  claim,  don't  you  understand  that  you  would 
be  condemned  beforehand?  Her  interests  are  directly 
opposed  to  yours.  Could  she  hesitate  between  her 
daughter  and  you?" 

[92] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"Oh!  your  calculations  are  clever  and  your  meas- 
ures were  well  taken,"  replied  Jeanne.  "Still,  if  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes  were  not  the  woman  you  think 
her "  Then,  hesitating: 

"If  she  took  my  part,  and  thinking  that  he  who  was  an 
unloyal  lover  would  be  an  unfaithful  husband — she 
would  augur  of  the  future  of  her  daughter  by  my  expe- 
rience; and  what  would  happen?" 

"Simply  this,"  returned  Serge.  "Weary  of  the  pre- 
carious and  hazardous  life  which  I  lead,  I  would  leave 
for  Austria,  and  rejoin  the  service.  A  uniform  is  the 
only  garb  which  can  hide  poverty  honorably." 

Jeanne  looked  at  him  with  anguish;  and  making  an 
effort  said : 

"Then,  in  any  case,  for  me  it  is  abandonment?" 

And  falling  upon  a  seat,  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 
Panine  remained  silent  for  a  moment.  The  young  girl's 
grief,  which  he  knew  to  be  sincere,  troubled  him  more 
than  he  wished  to  show.  He  had  loved  Mademoiselle 
de  Cernay,  and  he  loved  her  still.  But  he  felt  that  a 
sign  of  weakness  on  his  part  would  place  him  at  Jeanne's 
mercy,  and  that  an  avowal  from  his  lips  at  this  grave 
moment  meant  a  breaking-off  of  his  marriage  with  Mi- 
cheline.  He  hardened  himself  against  his  impressions, 
and  replied,  with  insinuating  sweetness: 

"Why  do  you  speak  of  desertion,  when  a  good  man 
who  loves  you  fondly,  and  who  possesses  a  handsome 
fortune,  wishes  to  marry  you?" 

Mademoiselle  de  Cernay  raised  her  head,  hastily. 

"So,  it  is  you  who  advise  me  to  marry  Monsieur  Cay- 
rol  ?  Is  there  nothing  revolting  to  you  in  the  idea  that  I 
[93] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

should  follow  your  advice  ?  But  then,  you  deceived  me 
from  the  first  moment  you  spoke  to  me.  You  have  never 
loved  me  even  for  a  day!  Not  an  hour!" 

Serge  smiled,  and  resuming  his  light,  caressing  tone, 
replied : 

"  My  dear  Jeanne,  if  I  had  a  hundred  thousand  francs 
a  year,  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor  that  I  would  not 
marry  another  woman  but  you,  for  you  would  make  an 
adorable  Princess." 

Mademoiselle  de  Cernay  made  a  gesture  of  perfect  in- 
difference. 

"Ah!  what  does  the  title  matter  to  me?"  she  ex- 
claimed, with  passion.  "What  I  want  is  you!  Nothing 
but  you!" 

"You  do  not  know  what  you  ask.  I  love  you  far  too 
much  to  associate  you  with  my  destiny.  If  you  knew 
that  gilded  misery,  that  white  kid-gloved  poverty,  which 
is  my  lot,  you  would  be  frightened,  and  you  would  un- 
derstand that  in  my  resolution  to  give  you  up  there  is 
much  of  tenderness  and  generosity.  Do  you  think  it  is 
such  an  easy  matter  to  give  up  a  woman  so  adorable  as 
you  are  ?  I  resign  myself  to  it,  though. 

"What  could  I  do  with  my  beautiful  Jeanne  in  the 
three  rooms  in  the  Rue  de  Madame  where  I  live  ?  Could 
I,  with  the  ten  or  twelve  thousand  francs  which  I  re- 
ceive through  the  liberality  of  the  Russian  Panines, 
provide  a  home?  I  can  hardly  make  it  do  for  myself. 
I  live  at  the  club,  where  I  dine  cheaply.  I  ride  my 
friends'  horses!  I  never  touch  a  card,  although  I  love 
play.  I  go  much  in  society;  I  shine  there,  and  walk 
home  to  save  the  cost  of  a  carriage.  My  door-keeper 
[94] 


SERGE  PANINE 

cleans  my  rooms  and  keeps  my  linen  in  order.  My  pri- 
vate life  is  sad,  dull,  and  humiliating.  It  is  the  black 
chrysalis  of  the  bright  butterfly  which  you  know.  That 
is  what  Prince  Panine  is,  my  dear  Jeanne.  A  gentle- 
man of  good  appearance,  who  lives  as  carefully  as  an 
old  maid.  The  world  sees  him  elegant  and  happy,  and 
its  envies  his  luxury;  but  this  luxury  is  as  deluding  as 
watch-chains  made  of  pinchbeck.  You  understand 
now  that  I  cannot  seriously  ask  you  to  share  such  an 
existence." 

But  if,  with  this  sketch  of  his  life,  correctly  described, 
Panine  thought  to  turn  the  young  girl  against  him,  he 
was  mistaken.  He  had  counted  without  considering 
Jeanne's  sanguine  temperament,  which  would  lead  her 
to  make  any  sacrifices  to  keep  the  man  she  adored. 

"If  you  were  rich,  Serge,"  she  said,  "I  would  not 
have  made  an  effort  to  bring  you  back  to  me.  But 
you  are  poor  and  I  have  a  right  to  tell  you  that  I  love 
you.  Life  with  you  would  be  all  devotedness  and  self- 
denial.  Each  pain  endured  would  be  a  proof  of  love, 
and  that  is  why  I  wish  to  suffer.  Your  life  with  mine 
would  be  neither  sad  nor  humiliated ;  I  would  make  it 
sweet  by  my  tenderness,  and  bright  by  my  happiness. 
And  we  should  be  so  happy  that  you  would  say,  'How 
could  I  ever  have  dreamed  of  anything  else?'" 

"Alas!  Jeanne,"  replied  the  Prince;  "it  is  a  charm- 
ing and  poetic  idyl  which  you  present  to  me.  We  should 
flee  far  from  the  world,  eh?  We  should  go  to  an  un- 
known spot  and  try  to  regain  paradise  lost.  How  long 
would  that  happiness  last  ?  A  season  during  the  spring- 
time of  our  youth.  Then  autumn  would  come,  sad  and 
[95] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

harsh.  Our  illusions  would  vanish  like  the  swallows  in 
romances,  and  we  should  find,  with  alarm,  that  we  had 
taken  the  dream  of  a  day  for  eternal  happiness!  For- 
give my  speaking  plain  words  of  disenchantment," 
added  Serge,  seeing  Jeanne  rising  abruptly,  "but  our 
life  is  being  settled  at  this  moment.  Reason  alone 
should  guide  us." 

"And  I  beseech  you  to  be  guided  only  by  your  heart," 
cried  Mademoiselle  de  Cernay,  seizing  the  hands  of  the 
Prince,  and  pressing  them  with  her  trembling  fingers. 
"Remember  that  you  loved  me.  Say  that  you  love  me 
still!" 

Jeanne  had  drawn  near  to  Serge.  Her  burning  face 
almost  touched  his.  Her  eyes,  bright  with  excitement, 
pleaded  passionately  for  a  tender  look.  She  was  most 
fascinating,  and  Panine,  usually  master  of  himself,  lost 
his  presence  of  mind  for  a  moment.  His  arms  encircled 
the  shoulders  of  the  adorable  pleader,  and  his  lips  were 
buried  in  the  masses  of  her  dark  hair. 

"Serge!"  cried  Mademoiselle  de  Cernay,  clinging  to 
him  whom  she  loved  so  fondly. 

But  the  Prince  was  as  quickly  calmed  as  he  had  been 
carried  away.  He  gently  put  Jeanne  aside. 

"You  see,"  he  said  with  a  smile,  "how  unreasonable 
we  are  and  how  easily  we  might  commit  an  irreparable 
folly.  And  yet  our  means  will  not  allow  us." 

"In  mercy  do  not  leave  me!"  pleaded  Jeanne,  in  a 
tone  of  despair.  "You  love  me!  I  feel  it;  everything 
tells  me  so !  And  you  would  desert  me  because  you  are 
poor  and  I  am  not  rich.  Is  a  man  ever  poor  when  he 
has  two  arms?  Work." 

[96] 


SERGE  PANINE 

Ths  word  was  uttered  by  Jeanne  with  admirable 
energy.  She  possessed  the  courage  to  overcome  every 
difficulty. 

Serge  trembled.  For  the  second  time  he  felt  touched 
to  the  very  soul  by  this  strange  girl.  He  understood  that 
he  must  not  leave  her  with  the  slightest  hope  of  encour- 
agement, but  throw  ice  on  the  fire  which  was  devouring 
her. 

"My  dear  Jeanne,"  he  said,  with  affectionate  sweet- 
ness, "you  are  talking  nonsense.  Remember  this,  that 
for  Prince  Panine  there  are  only  three  social  conditions 
possible :  to  be  rich,  a  soldier,  or  a  priest.  I  have  the 
choice.  It  is  for  you  to  decide." 

This  put  an  end  to  Mademoiselle  de  Cernay's  resist- 
ance. She  felt  how  useless  was  further  argument,  and 
falling  on  a  sofa,  crushed  with  grief,  cried : 

"Ah!  this  time  it  is  finished;  I  am  lost!" 

Panine,  then,  approaching  her,  insinuating  and  sup- 
ple, like  the  serpent  with  the  first  woman,  murmured  in 
her  ear,  as  if  afraid  lest  his  words,  in  being  spoken 
aloud,  would  lose  their  subtle  venom: 

"No,  you  are  not  lost.  On  the  contrary,  you  are 
saved,  if  you  will  only  listen  to  and  understand  me. 
What  are  we,  you  and  I?  You,  a  child  adopted  by  a 
generous  woman;  I,  a  ruined  nobleman.  You  live  in 
luxury,  thanks  to  Madame  Desvarennes's  liberality.  I 
can  scarcely  manage  to  keep  myself  with  the  help  of  my 
family.  Our  present  is  precarious,  our  future  hazard- 
ous. And,  suddenly,  fortune  is  within  our  grasp.  We 
have  only  to  stretch  out  our  hands,  and  with  one  stroke 
we  gain  the  uncontested  power  which  money  brings! 
7  [97] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

Riches,  that  aim  of  humanity!  Do  you  understand? 
We,  the  weak  and  disdained,  become  strong  and  power- 
ful. And  what  is  necessary  to  gain  them?  A  flash  of 
sense;  a  minute  of  wisdom ;  forget  a  dream  and  accept 
a  reality." 

Jeanne  waited  till  he  had  finished.  A  bitter  smile 
played  on  her  lips.  Henceforth  she  would  believe  in  no 
one.  After  listening  to  what  Serge  had  just  said,  she 
could  listen  to  anything. 

"So,"  said  she,  "the  dream  is  love;  the  reality  is  in- 
terest. And  is  it  you  who  speak  thus  to  me  ?  You,  for 
whom  I  was  prepared  to  endure  any  sacrifice!  You, 
whom  I  would  have  served  on  my  knees!  And  what 
reason  do  you  give  to  justify  your  conduct?  Money! 
Indispensable  and  stupid  money!  Nothing  but  money! 
But  it  is  odious,  infamous,  low!" 

Serge  received  this  terrible  broadside  of  abuse  with- 
out flinching.  He  had  armed  himself  against  contempt, 
and  was  deaf  to  all  insults.  Jeanne  went  on  with  in- 
creasing rage : 

"Micheline  has  everything:  family,  fortune,  and 
friends,  and  she  is  taking  away  my  one  possession — 
your  love.  Tell  me  that  you  love  her!  It  will  be  more 
cruel  but  less  vile !  But  no,  it  is  not  possible !  You  gave 
way  to  temptation  at  seeing  her  so  rich;  you  had  a  feel- 
ing of  covetousness,  but  you  will  become  yourself  again 
and  will  act  like  an  honest  man.  Think,  that  in  my 
eyes  you  are  dishonoring  yourself!  Serge,  answer 


me! 


I" 


She  clung  to  him  again,  and  tried  to  regain  him  by 
her  ardor,  to  warm  him  with  her  passion.     He  re- 
[98] 


SERGE  PANINE 

mained   unmoved,   silent,  and  cold.    Her  conscience 
rebelled. 

"Well,  then,"  said  she,  " marry  her." 

She  remained  silent  and  sullen,  seeming  to  forget  he 
was  there.  She  was  thinking  deeply.  Then  she  walked 
wildly  up  and  down  the  room,  saying: 

"So,  it  is  that  implacable  self-interest  with  which  I 
have  just  come  in  contact,  which  is  the  law  of  the  world, 
the  watchword  of  society !  So,  in  refusing  to  share  the 
common  folly,  I  risk  remaining  in  isolation,  and  I  must 
be  strong  to  make  others  stand  in  awe  of  me.  Very  well, 
then,  I  shall  henceforth  act  in  such  a  manner  as  to  be 
neither  dupe  nor  victim.  In  future,  everything  will  be 
self,  and  woe  to  him  who  hinders  me.  That  is  the  mo- 
rality of  the  age,  is  it  not?" 

And  she  laughed  nervously. 

"Was  I  not  stupid?  Come,  Prince,  you  have  made 
me  clever.  Many  thanks  for  the  lesson;  it  was  difficult, 
but  I  shall  profit  by  it." 

The  Prince,  astonished  at  the  sudden  change,  listened 
to  Jeanne  with  stupor.  He  did  not  yet  quite  under- 
stand. 

"What  do  you  intend  to  do?"  asked  he. 

Jeanne  looked  at  him  with  a  fiendish  expression. 
Her  eyes  sparkled  like  stars;  her  white  teeth  shone  be- 
tween her  lips. 

"I  intend,"  replied  she,  "to  lay  the  foundation  of 
my  power,  and  to  follow  your  advice,  by  marrying  a 
millionaire!" 

She  ran  to  the  window,  and,  looking  out  toward  the 
shady  garden,  called : 

[99] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"  Monsieur  Cayrol!" 

Serge,  full  of  surprise,  and  seized  by  a  sudden  fit  of 
jealousy,  went  toward  her  as  if  to  recall  her. 

"  Jeanne,"  said  he,  vaguely  holding  out  his  arms. 

"Well!  what  is  it?"  she  asked,  with  crushing 
haughtiness.  "Are  you  frightened  at  having  gained 
your  cause  so  quickly?" 

And  as  Serge  did  not  speak : 

"Come,"  added  she,  "you  will  have  a  handsome  fee; 
Micheline's  dower  will  be  worth  the  trouble  you  have 
had." 

They  heard  Cayrol's  hurried  steps  ascending  the 
stairs. 

"You  have  done  me  the  honor  to  call  me,  Mademoi- 
selle," said  he,  remaining  on  the  threshold  of  the  draw- 
ing-room. "Am  I  fortunate  enough  at  length  to  have 
found  favor  in  your  eyes?" 

"Here  is  my  hand,"  said  Mademoiselle  de  Cernay, 
simply  tendering  him  her  white  taper  fingers,  which  he 
covered  with  kisses. 

Madame  Desvarennes  had  come  in  behind  the  banker. 
She  uttered  a  joyous  exclamation. 

"Cayrol,  you  shall  not  marry  Jeanne  for  her  beauty 
alone.  I  will  give  her  a  dower." 

Micheline  fell  on  her  companion's  neck.  It  was  a 
concert  of  congratulations.  But  Jeanne,  with  a  serious 
air,  led  Cayrol  aside : 

"I  wish  to  act  honestly  toward  you,  sir;   I  yield  to 
the  pleading  of  which  I  am  the  object.    But  you  must 
know  that  my  sentiments  do  not  change  so  quickly. 
It  is  my  hand  only  which  I  give  you  to-day." 
[100] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"I  have  not  the  conceitedness  to  think  that  you  love 
me,  Mademoiselle,"  said  Cayrol,  humbly.  "You  give 
me  your  hand ;  it  will  be  for  me  to  gain  your  heart,  and 
with  time  and  sincere  affection  I  do  not  despair  of  win- 
ning it.  I  am  truly  happy,  believe  me,  for  the  favor 
you  do  me,  and  all  my  life  long  shall  be  spent  in  proving 
my  gratitude  to  you." 

Jeanne  was  moved;  she  glanced  at  Cayrol,  and  did 
not  think  him  so  common-looking  as  usual.  She  re- 
solved to  do  all  in  her  power  to  like  this  good  man. 

Serge,  in  taking  leave  of  Madame  Desvarennes,  said: 

"In  exchange  for  all  the  happiness  which  you  give 
me,  I  have  only  my  life  to  offer;  accept  it,  Madame,  it 
is  yours." 

The  mistress  looked  at  the  Prince  deeply ;  then,  in  a 
singular  tone,  said : 

"I  accept  it;  from  to-day  you  belong  to  me." 

Marechal  took  Pierre  by  the  arm  and  led  him  outside. 

"The  Prince  has  just  uttered  words  which  remind  me 
of  Antonio  saying  to  the  Jew  in  'The  Merchant  of  Ven- 
ice ' :  'Thy  ducats  in  exchange  for  a  pound  of  my  flesh.' 
Madame  Desvarennes  loves  her  daughter  with  a  more 
formidable  love  than  Shylock  had  for  his  gold.  The 
Prince  will  do  well  to  be  exact  in  his  payments  of  the 
happiness  which  he  has  promised." 


[101] 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  PLEASANT  UNDERSTANDING 

[E  day  following  this  memorable  eve- 
ning, Pierre  left  for  Algeria,  notwith- 
standing the  prayers  of  Madame  Des- 
varennes  who  wished  to  keep  him  near 
her.  He  was  going  to  finish  his  la- 
bors. He  promised  to  return  in  time 
for  the  wedding.  The  mistress,  wish- 
ing to  give  him  some  compensation, 
offered  him  the  management  of  the  mills  at  Jouy, 
saying: 

"So  that  if  you  are  not  my  son,  you  will  be  at  least 
my  partner.  And  if  I  do  not  leave  you  all  my  money  at 
my  death,  I  can  enrich  you  during  my  life." 

Pierre  would  not  accept.  He  would  not  have  it  said 
that  in  wishing  to  marry  Micheline  he  had  tried  to 
make  a  speculation.  He  wished  to  leave  that  house 
where  he  had  hoped  to  spend  his  life,  empty-handed,  so 
that  no  one  could  doubt  that  it  was  the  woman  he  loved 
in  Micheline  and  not  the  heiress.  He  had  been  offered 
a  splendid  appointment  in  Savoy  as  manager  of  some 
mines;  he  would  find  there  at  the  same  time  profit  and 
happiness,  because  there  were  interesting  scientific 
studies  to  be  made  in  order  to  enable  him  to  carry  on 
the  work  creditably.  He  resolved  to  throw  himself  heart 

[102] 


SERGE  PANINE 

and  soul  into  the  work  and  seek  forgetfulness  in 
study. 

In  the  mansion  of  the  Rue  Saint-Dominique  the  mar- 
riage preparations  were  carried  on  with  great  despatch. 
On  the  one  side  the  Prince,  and  on  the  other  Cayrol, 
were  eager  for  the  day :  the  one  because  he  saw  the  real- 
ization of  his  ambitious  dreams,  the  other  because  he 
loved  so  madly.  Serge,  gracious  and  attentive,  allowed 
himself  to  be  adored  by  Micheline,  who  was  never 
weary  of  listening  to  and  looking  at  him  whom  she 
loved.  It  was  a  sort  of  delirium  that  had  taken  posses- 
sion of  the  young  girl.  Madame  Desvarennes  looked  on 
the  metamorphosis  in  her  child  with  amazement.  The 
old  Micheline,  naturally  indolent  and  cold,  just  living 
with  the  indolence  of  an  odalisque  stretched  on  silk 
cushions,  had  changed  into  a  lively,  loving  sweetheart, 
with  sparkling  eyes  and  cheerful  lips.  Like  those  flow- 
ers which  the  sun  causes  to  bloom  and  be  fragrant,  so 
Micheline  under  a  look  from  Serge  became  animated 
and  grown  handsomer. 

The  mother  looked  on  with  bitterness;  she  spoke  of 
this  transformation  in  her  child  with  ironical  disdain. 
She  was  sure  Micheline  was  not  in  earnest;  only  a  doll 
was  capable  of  falling  in  love  so  foolishly  with  a  man 
for  his  personal  beauty.  For  to  her  mind  the  Prince 
was  as  regards  mental  power  painfully  deficient.  No 
sense,  dumb  as  soon  as  the  conversation  took  a  serious 
turn,  only  able  to  talk  dress  like  a  woman,  or  about 
horses  like  a  jockey.  And  it  was  such  a  person  upon 
whom  Micheline  literally  doted !  The  mistress  felt  hu- 
miliated; she  dared  not  say  anything  to  her  daughter, 
[103] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

but  she  relieved  herself  in  company  of  Marechal,  whose 
discretion  she  could  trust,  and  whom  she  willingly  called 
the  tomb  of  her  secrets. 

Marechal  listened  patiently  to  the  confidences  of 
Madame  Desvarennes,  and  he  tried  to  fight  against  the 
growing  animosity  of  the  mistress  toward  her  future 
son-in-law.  Not  that  he  liked  the  Prince — he  was  too 
much  on  Pierre's  side  to  be  well  disposed  toward  Pa- 
nine;  but  with  his  good  sense  he  saw  that  Madame 
Desvarennes  would  find  it  advantageous  to  overcome 
her  feeling  of  dislike.  And  when  the  mistress,  so  for- 
midable toward  everybody  except  her  daughter,  cried 
with  rage : 

"That  Micheline!  I  have  just  seen  her  again  in  the 
garden,  hanging  on  the  arm  of  that  great  lanky  fellow, 
her  eyes  fixed  on  his  like  a  lark  fascinated  by  a  looking- 
glass.  What  on  earth  has  happened  to  her  that  she 
should  be  in  such  a  state?" 

Marechal  interrupted  her  gently. 

"All  fair  people  are  like  that,"  he  affirmed  with  ironi- 
cal gayety.  "You  cannot  understand  it,  Madame;  you 
are  dark." 

Then  Madame  Desvarennes  became  angry. 

"Be  quiet,"  she  said,  "you  are  stupid!  She  ought  to 
have  a  shower-bath !  She  is  mad!" 

As  for  Cayrol  he  lived  in  ecstasy,  like  an  Italian  kneel- 
ing before  a  madonna.  He  had  never  been  so  happy; 
he  was  overwhelmed  with  joy.  Until  then,  he  had  only 
thought  of  business  matters.  To  be  rich  was  the  aim  of 
his  life;  and  now  he  was  going  to  work  for  happiness. 
It  was  all  pleasure  for  him.  He  was  not  blase;  he 
[104] 


SERGE  PANINE 

amused  himself  like  a  child,  adorning  the  rooms  which 
were  to  be  occupied  by  Jeanne.  To  his  mind  nothing 
was  too  expensive  for  the  temple  of  his  goddess,  as  he 
said,  with  a  loud  laugh  which  lighted  up  his  whole  face. 
And  when  he  spoke  of  his  love's  future  nest,  he  ex- 
claimed, with  a  voluptuous  shiver: 

"It  is  charming;  a  veritable  little  paradise!"  Then 
the  financier  shone  through  all,  and  he  added : 

"And  I  know  what  it  costs!" 

But  he  did  not  grudge  his  money.  He  knew  he  would 
get  the  interest  of  it  back.  On  one  subject  he  was  anx- 
ious— Mademoiselle  de  Cernay's  health.  Since  the  day 
of  their  engagement,  Jeanne  had  become  more  serious 
and  dull.  She  had  grown  thin  and  her  eyes  were  sunken 
as  if  she  wept  in  secret.  When  he  spoke  of  his  fears  to 
Madame  Desvarennes,  the  latter  said  • 

"These  young  girls  are  so  senseless.  The  notion  of 
marriage  puts  them  in  such  an  incomprehensible  state! 
Look  at  my  daughter.  She  chatters  like  a  magpie  and 
skips  about  like  a  kid.  She  has  two  glow-worms  under 
her  eyelids!  As  to  Jeanne,  that's  another  affair;  she 
has  the  matrimonial  melancholy,  and  has  the  air  of  a 
young  victim.  Leave  them  alone ;  it  will  all  come  right. 
But  you  must  admit  that  the  gayety  of  the  one  is  at  least 
as  irritating  as  the  languor  of  the  other!" 

Cayrol,  somewhat  reassured  by  this  explanation,  and 
thinking,  like  her,  that  it  was  the  uncertainties  of  mar- 
riage which  were  troubling  Jeanne,  no  longer  attached 
any  importance  to  her  sad  appearance.  Micheline  and 
Serge  isolated  themselves  completely.  They  fled  to  the 
garden  as  soon  as  any  one  ventured  into  the  drawing- 
[105] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

room  to  interrupt  their  tete-a-tete.  If  visitors  came  to 
the  garden  they  took  refuge  in  the  conservatory. 

This  manoeuvre  pleased  Serge,  because  he  always 
felt  uncomfortable  in  Jeanne's  presence.  Mademoi- 
selle de  Cernay  had  a  peculiar  wrinkle  on  her  brow 
whenever  she  saw  Micheline  passing  before  her  hanging 
on  the  arm  of  the  Prince,  which  tormented  him.  They 
were  obliged  to  meet  at  table  in  the  evening,  for  Serge 
and  Cayrol  dined  at  the  Rue  Saint-Dominique.  The 
Prince  talked  in  whispers  to  Micheline,  but  every  now 
and  then  he  was  obliged  to  speak  to  Jeanne.  These 
were  painful  moments  to  Serge.  He  was  always  in 
dread  of  some  outburst,  knowing  her  ardent  and  pas- 
sionate nature.  Thus,  before  Jeanne,  he  made  Michel- 
ine behave  in  a  less  demonstrative  manner.  Mademoi- 
selle Desvarennes  was  proud  of  this  reserve,  and  thought 
it  was  tact  and  good  breeding  on  the  part  of  the  Prince, 
without  doubting  that  what  she  thought  reserve  in  the 
man  of  the  world  was  the  prudence  of  an  anxious  lover. 

Jeanne  endured  the  tortures  of  Hades.  Too  proud 
to  say  anything  after  the  explanation  she  had  had  with 
Serge,  too  much  smitten  to  bear  calmly  the  sight  of  her 
rival's  happiness,  she  saw  draw  near  with  deep  horror 
the  moment  when  she  would  belong  to  the  man  whom 
she  had  determined  to  marry  although  she  did  not  love 
him.  She  once  thought  of  breaking  off  the  engagement ; 
as  she  could  not  belong  to  the  man  whom  she  adored,  at 
least  she  could  belong  to  herself.  But  the  thought  of 
the  struggle  she  would  have  to  sustain  with  those  who 
surrounded  her,  stopped  her.  What  would  she  do  at 
Madame  Desvarennes's  ?  She  would  have  to  witness 
[106] 


SERGE  PANINE 

the  happiness  of  Micheline  and  Serge.  She  would  rather 
leave  the  house. 

With  Cayrol  at  least  she  could  go  away;  she  would 
be  free,  and  perhaps  the  esteem  which  she  would  surely 
have  for  her  husband  would  do  instead  of  love.  Sisterly 
or  filial  love,  in  fact  the  least  affection,  would  satisfy  the 
poor  man,  who  was  willing  to  accept  anything  from 
Jeanne.  And  she  would  not  have  that  group  of  Serge 
and  Micheline  before  her  eyes,  always  walking  round 
the  lawn  and  disappearing  arm  in  arm  down  the  nar- 
row walks.  She  would  not  have  the  continual  murmur 
of  their  love-making  in  her  ears,  a  murmur  broken  by 
the  sound  of  kisses  when  they  reached  shady  corners. 

One  evening,  when  Serge  appeared  in  the  little  draw- 
ing-room of  the  Rue  Saint-Dominique,  he  found  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes  alone.  She  looked  serious,  as  if  some 
important  business  were  pending.  She  stood  before  the 
fireplace;  her  hands  crossed  behind  her  back  like  a 
man.  Apparently,  she  had  sought  to  be  alone.  Cayrol, 
Jeanne,  and  Micheline  were  in  the  garden.  Serge  felt 
uneasy.  He  had  a  presentiment  of  trouble.  But  deter- 
mined to  make  the  best  of  it,  whatever  it  might  be,  he 
looked  pleasant  and  bowed  to  Madame  Desvarennes, 
without  his  face  betraying  his  uneasiness. 

"Good-day,  Prince;  you  are  early  this  evening, 
though  not  so  early  as  Cayrol;  but  then  he  does  not 
quite  know  what  he  is  doing  now.  Sit  down,  I  want  to 
talk  to  you.  You  know  that  a  young  lady  like.  Made- 
moiselle Desvarennes  cannot  get  married  without  her 
engagement  being  much  talked  about.  Tongues  have 
been  very  busy,  and  pens  too.  I  have  heard  a  lot  of 
[107] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

scandal  and  have  received  heaps  of  anonymous  letters 
about  you." 

Serge  gave  a  start  of  indignation. 

"Don't  be  uneasy,"  continued  the  mistress.  "I  did 
not  heed  the  tales,  and  I  burned  the  letters.  Some  said 
you  were  a  dissolute  man,  capable  of  anything  to  gain 
your  object.  Others  insinuated  that  you  were  not  a 
Prince,  that  you  were  not  a  Pole,  but  the  son  of  a  Rus- 
sian coachman  and  a  little  dressmaker  of  Les  Ternes; 
that  you  had  lived  at  the  expense  of  Mademoiselle 
Anna  Monplaisir,  the  star  of  the  Varietes  Theatre,  and 
that  you  were  bent  on  marrying  to  pay  your  debts  with 
my  daughter's  money." 

Panine,  pale  as  death,  rose  up  and  said,  in  a  stifled 
voice : 

"Madame!" 

"Sit  down,  my  dear  child,"  interrupted  the  mistress. 
"If  I  tell  you  these  things,  it  is  because  I  have  the  proofs 
that  they  are  untrue.  Otherwise,  I  would  not  have 
given  myself  the  trouble  to  talk  to  you  about  them.  I 
would  have  shown  you  the  door  and  there  would  have 
been  an  end  of  it.  Certainly,  you  are  not  an  angel ;  but 
the  peccadillos  which  you  have  been  guilty  of  are  those 
which  one  forgives  in  a  son,  and  which  in  a  son-in-law 
makes  some  mothers  smile.  You  are  a  Prince,  you  are 
handsome,  and  you  have  been  loved.  You  were  then  a 
bachelor;  and  it  was  your  own  affair.  But  now,  you 
are  going  to  be,  in  about  ten  days,  the  husband  of  my 
daughter,  and  it  is  necessary  for  us  to  make  certain 
arrangements.  Therefore,  I  waited  to  see  you,  to  speak 
of  your  wife,  of  yourself,  and  of  me." 
[108] 


SERGE  PANINE 

What  Madame  Desvarennes  had  just  said  relieved 
Serge  of  a  great  weight.  He  felt  so  happy  that  he  re- 
solved to  do  everything  in  his  power  to  please  the 
mother  of  his  betrothed. 

"Speak,  Madame,"  he  exclaimed.  "I  am  listen- 
ing to  you  with  attention  and  confidence.  I  am 
sure  that  from  you  I  can  only  expect  goodness  and 
sense." 

The  mistress  smiled. 

"Oh,  I  know  you  have  a  gilt  tongue,  my  handsome 
friend,  but  I  don't  pay  myself  with  words,  and  I  am  not 
easy  to  be  wheedled." 

"Faith,"  said  Serge,  "I  won't  deceive  you.  I  will 
try  to  please  you  with  all  my  heart." 

Madame  Desvarennes's  face  brightened  as  suddenl] 
at  these  words  as  a  landscape,  wrapped  in  a  fog,  whicr 
is  suddenly  lighted  up  by  the  sun. 

"Then  we  shall  understand  each  other,"  she  said. 
"For  the  last  fortnight  we  have  been  busy  with  mar- 
riage preparations,  and  have  not  been  able  to  think  or 
reason.  Everybody  is  rambling  about  here.  Still,  we 
are  commencing  a  new  life,  and  I  think  it  is  as  well  to 
lay  the  foundation.  I  seem  to  be  drawing  up  a  contract, 
eh?  What  can  I  do?  It  is  an  old  business  habit.  I 
like  to  know  how  I  stand." 

"I  think  it  is  quite  right.  I  think,  too,  that  you  have 
acted  with  great  delicacy  in  not  imposing  your  condi- 
tions upon  me  before  giving  your  consent." 

"Has  that  made  you  feel  better  disposed  toward  me? 
So  much  the  better!"  said  the  mistress.  "Because  you 
know  that  I  depend  on  my  daughter,  who  will  hence- 
[109] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

forth  depend  on  you,  and  it  is  to  my  interest  that  I 
should  be  in  your  good  graces." 

In  pronouncing  these  words  with  forced  cheerfulness, 
Madame  Desvarennes's  voice  trembled  slightly.  She 
knew  what  an  important  game  she  was  playing,  and 
wished  to  win  it  at  any  price. 

"You  see,"  continued  she,  "I  am  not  an  easy  woman 
to  deal  with.  I  am  a  little  despotic,  I  know.  I  have 
been  in  the  habit  of  commanding  during  the  last  thirty- 
five  years.  Business  was  heavy,  and  required  a  strong 
will.  I  had  it,  and  the  habit  is  formed.  But  this  strong 
will,  which  has  served  me  so  well  in  business  will,  I  am 
afraid,  with  you,  play  me  some  trick.  Those  who  have 
lived  with  me  a  long  time  know  that  if  I  am  hot-headed 
I  have  a  good  heart.  They  submit  to,  my  tyranny; 
but  you  who  are  a  newcomer,  how  will  you  like 
it?" 

"I  shall  do  as  the  others  do,"  said  Serge, simply.  "I 
shall  be  led,  and  with  pleasure.  Think  that  I  have 
lived  for  years  without  kindred,  without  ties — at  ran- 
dom; and,  believe  me,  any  chain  will  be  light  and  sweet 
which  holds  me  to  any  one  or  anything.  And  then," 
frankly  added  he,  changing  his  tone  and  looking  at 
Madame  Desvarennes  with  tenderness,  "if  I  did  not 
do  everything  to  please  you  I  should  be  ungrateful." 

"Oh!"  cried  Madame  Desvarennes,  "unfortunately 
that  is  not  a  reason." 

"Would  you  have  a  better  one  ? "  said  the  young  man, 
in  his  most  charming  accent.    "If  I  had  not  married 
your  daughter  for  her  own  sake,  I  believe  that  I  should 
have  married  her  for  yours." 
[no] 


SERGE  PANINE 

Madame  Desvarennes  was  quite  pleased,  and  shak- 
ing her  finger  threateningly  at  Serge,  said : 

"Ah,  you  Pole,  you  boaster  of  the  North!" 

"Seriously,"  continued  Serge,  "before  I  knew  I  was 
to  be  your  son-in-law,  I  thought  you  a  matchless  woman. 
Add  to  the  admiration  I  had  for  your  great  qualities  the 
affection  which  your  goodness  has  inspired,  and  you 
will  understand  that  I  am  both  proud  and  happy  to 
have  such  a  mother  as  you." 

Madame  Desvarennes  looked  at  Panine  attentively; 
she  saw  he  was  sincere.  Then,  taking  courage,  she 
touched  the  topic  of  greatest  interest  to  her. 

"  If  that  is  the  case,  you  will  have  no  objections  to  live 
with  me?"  She  stopped;  then  emphasized  the  words, 
"With  me." 

"But  was  not  that  understood?"  asked  Serge,  gayly. 
"I  thought  so.  You  must  have  seen  that  I  have  not 
been  seeking  a  dwelling  for  my  wife  and  myself.  If  you 
had  not  made  the  offer  to  me,  I  should  have  asked  you 
to  let  me  stay  with  you." 

Madame  Desvarennes  broke  into  such  an  outburst 
of  joy  that  she  astonished  Panine.  It  was  then  only 
that  in  that  pallor,  in  that  sudden  trembling,  in  that 
changed  voice,  he  understood  the  immensity  of  the 
mother's  love  for  her  daughter. 

"I  have  everything  to  gain  by  that  arrangement," 
continued  he.  "My  wife  will  be  happy  at  not  leaving 
you,  and  you  will  be  pleased  at  my  not  having  taken 
away  your  daughter.  You  will  both  like  me  better, 
and  that  is  all  I  wish." 

"How  good  you  are  in  deciding  thus,  and  how  I 
[in] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

thank  you  for  it,"  resumed  Madame  Desvarennes.  "I 
feared  you  would  have  ideas  of  independence." 

"I  should  have  been  happy  to  sacrifice  them  to  you, 
but  I  have  not  even  that  merit." 

All  that  Serge  had  said  had  been  so  open  and  plain, 
and  expressed  with  such  sweetness  that,  little  by  little, 
Madame  Desvarennes' s  prejudices  disappeared.  He 
took  possession  of  her  as  he  had  done  of  Micheline,  and 
as  he  did  of  every  one  whom  he  wished  to  conquer.  His 
charm  was  irresistible.  He  seized  on  one  by  the  eyes 
and  the  ears.  Naturally  fascinating,  moving,  captivat- 
ing, bold,  he  always  preserved  his  artless  and  tender 
ways,  which  made  him  resemble  a  young  girl. 

"I  am  going  to  tell  you  how  we  shall  manage,"  said 
the  mistress.  "Foreseeing  my  daughter's  marriage,  I 
have  had  my  house  divided  into  two  distinct  establish- 
ments. They  say  that  life  in  common  with  a  mother- 
in-law  is  objectionable  to  a  son-in-law,  therefore  I  wish 
you  to  have  a  home  of  your  own.  I  know  that  an  old 
face  like  mine  frightens  young  lovers.  I  will  come  to 
you  when  you  invite  me.  But  even  when  I  am  shut  up 
in  my  own  apartments  I  shall  be  with  my  daughter;  I 
shall  breathe  the  same  air;  I  shall  hear  her  going  and 
coming,  singing,  laughing,  and  I  shall  say  to  myself — 
'It  is  all  right,  she  is  happy.'  That  is  all  I  ask.  A  little 
corner,  whence  I  can  share  her  life." 

Serge  took  her  hand  with  effusion. 

"Don't  be  afraid;  your  daughter  will  not  leave  you." 

Madame  Desvarennes,  unable  to  contain  her  feelings, 
opened  her  arms,  and  Serge  fell  on  her  breast,  like  a 
true  son, 

[112] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"Do  you  know,  I  am  going  to  adore  you!"  cried  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes,  showing  Panine  a  face  beaming 
with  happiness. 

"I  hope  so,"  said  the  young  man,  gayly. 

Madame  Desvarennes  became  thoughtful. 

"What  a  strange  thing  life  is!!'  resumed  she.  "I  did 
not  want  you  for  a  son-in-law,  and  now  you  are  behav- 
ing so  well  toward  me  that  I  am  full  of  remorse.  Oh, 
I  see  now  what  a  dangerous  man  you  are,  if  you 
captivate  other  women's  hearts  as  you  have  caught 
mine." 

She  looked  at  the  Prince  fixedly,  and  added,  in  her 
clear  commanding  voice,  with  a  shade  of  gayety : 

"Now,  I  hope  you  will  reserve  all  your  powers  of 
charming  for  my  daughter.  No  more  flirting,  eh  ?  She 
loves  you;  she  would  be  jealous,  and  you  would  get 
into  hot  water  with  me!  Let  Micheline's  life  be  happy, 
without  a  cloud — blue,  always  blue  sky!" 

"That  will  be  easy,"  said  Serge.  "To  be  unhappy  I 
should  have  to  seek  misfortune;  and  I  certainly  shall 
not  do  that." 

He  began  to  laugh. 

"Besides,  your  good  friends  who  criticised  so  when 
you  gave  me  Micheline's  hand  would  be  only  too  pleased. 
I  will  not  give  them  the  pleasure  of  posing  as  prophets 
and  saying — 'We  knew  it  would  be  so!"' 

"You  must  forgive  them,"  replied  Madame  Desva- 
rennes. "You  have  made  enemies.  Without  speaking 
of  projects  which  I  had  formed,  I  may  say  that  my 
daughter  has  had  offers  from  the  best  folks  in  Paris; 
from  first-rate  firms!  Our  circle  was  rather  indignant. 
8  " 


GEORGES  OHNET 

People  said:  'Oh,  Madame  Desvarennes  wanted  her 
daughter  to  be  a  Princess.  We  shall  see  how  it  will  turn 
out.  Her  son-in-law  will  spend  her  money  and  spurn 
her.'  The  gossip  of  disappointed  people.  Give  them 
the  lie;  manage  that  we  shall  all  live  together,  and  we 
shall  be  right  against  the  world." 

"Do  you  hope  it  will  be  so?" 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  answered  the  mistress,  affection- 
ately pressing  the  hand  of  her  future  son-in-law. 

Micheline  entered,  anxious  at  the  long  interview  be- 
tween Serge  and  her  mother.  She  saw  them  hand  in 
hand.  She  uttered  a  joyful  cry,  and  threw  her  arms 
caressingly  round  her  mother's  neck. 

"Well !  you  are  agreed  ? "  she  said,  making  a  gracious 
sign  to  Serge. 

"He  has  been  charming,"  replied  Madame  Desva- 
rennes, whispering  in  her  daughter's  ear.  "He  agrees 
to  live  in  this  house,  and  that  quite  gracefully.  There, 
child,  this  is  the  happiest  moment  I've  had  since  your 
engagement.  I  admit  that  I  regret  nothing." 

Then,  resuming  aloud : 

"We  will  leave  to-morrow  for  Cernay,  where  the  mar- 
riage shall  take  place.  I  shall  have  to  order  the  work- 
men in  here  to  get  ready  for  your  reception.  Besides 
the  wedding  will  be  more  brilliant  in  the  country.  We 
shall  have  all  the  workpeople  there.  We  will  throw 
the  park  open  to  the  countryside;  it  will  be  a  grand 
fe"te.  For  we  are  lords  of  the  manor  there,"  added  she, 
with  pride. 

"You  are  right,  mamma;  it  will  be  far  better,"  ex- 
claimed Micheline.  And  taking  Serge  by  the  hand, 


SERGE  PANINE 

"Come,  let  us  go,"   said  she,  and  led  him  into  the 
garden. 

And  amid  the  sweet-smelling  shrubs  they  resumed 
their  walk,  always  the  same  yet  ever  new,  their  arms 
twined  round  each  other,  the  young  girl  clinging  to  him 
whom  she  loved,  and  he  looking  fondly  at  her,  and  with 
caressing  voice  telling  her  the  oft-told  tale  of  love  which 
she  was  never  tired  of  hearing,  and  which  always  filled 
her  with  thrills  of  joy. 


["5] 


€HAPTER  IX 

THE   DOUBLE   MARRIAGE 

Chateau  of  Cernay  is  a  vast  and 
beautiful  structure  of  the  time  of  Louis 
XIII.  A  walled  park  of  a  hundred 
acres  surrounds  it,  with  trees  centuries 
old.  A  white  painted  gate  separates 
the  avenue  from  the  road  leading  to 
Pontoise  by  way  of  Conflans.  A  car- 
pet of  grass,  on  which  carriages  roll 
as  if  on  velvet,  leads  up  to  the  park  gates.  Before 
reaching  it  there  is  a  stone  bridge  which  spans  the 
moat  of  running  water.  A  lodge  of  stone,  faced  with 
brick,  with  large  windows,  rises  at  each  corner  of  this 
space. 

The  chateau,  surrounded  by  cleverly  arranged  trees, 
stands  in  the  centre,  on  a  solid  foundation  of  red  granite 
from  the  Jura.  A  splendid  double  staircase  leads  to 
the  ground  floor  as  high  as  an  entresol.  A  spacious 
hall,  rising  to  the  roof  of  the  building,  lighted  by  a  win- 
dow filled  with  old  stained  glass,  first  offers  itself  to  the 
visitor.  A  large  organ,  by  Cavallie-Col,  rears  its  long 
brilliant  pipes  at  one  end  of  the  hall  to  a  level  with  the 
gallery  of  sculptured  wood  running  round  and  forming 
a  balcony  on  the  first  floor.  At  each  corner  is  a  knight 
in  armor,  helmet  on  head,  and  lance  in  hand,  mounted 
[116] 


SERGE  PANINE 

on  a  charger,  and  covered  with  the  heavy  trappings  of 
war.  Cases  full  of  objects  of  art  of  great  value,  book- 
shelves containing  all  the  new  books,  are  placed  along 
the  walls.  A  billiard-table  and  all  sorts  of  games  are 
lodged  under  the  vast  staircase.  The  broad  bays 
which  give  admission  to  the  reception-rooms  and  grand 
staircase  are  closed  by  tapestry  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
representing  hunting  scenes.  Long  cords  of  silk  and 
gold  loop  back  these  marvellous  hangings  in  the  Ital- 
ian style.  Thick  carpets,  into  which  the  feet  sink, 
deaden  the  sound  of  footsteps.  Spacious  divans,  cov- 
ered with  Oriental  materials,  are  placed  round  the 
room. 

Over  the  chimney-piece,  which  is  splendidly  carved 
in  woodwork,  is  a  looking-glass  in  the  Renaissance 
style,  with  a  bronze  and  silver  frame,  representing  grin- 
ning fawns  and  dishevelled  nymphs.  Benches  are 
placed  round  the  hearth,  which  is  large  enough  to  hold 
six  people.  Above  the  divans,  on  the  walls,  are  large  oil- 
paintings  by  old  masters.  An  "  Assumption,"  by  Jor- 
daens,  which  is  a  masterpiece;  "The  Gamesters,"  by 
Valentin;  "A  Spanish  Family  on  Horseback,"  painted 
by  Velasquez;  and  the  marvel  of  the  collection — a 
"Holy  Family,"  by  Francia,  bought  in  Russia.  Then, 
lower  down,  "A  Young  Girl  with  a  Canary,"  by  Metzu; 
a  "Kermesse,"  by  Braurver,  a  perfect  treasure,  glitter, 
like  the  gems  they  are,  in  the  midst  of  panoplies,  be- 
tween the  high  branches  of  palm-trees  planted  in  enor- 
mous delft  vases.  A  mysterious  light  niters  into  that 
fresh  and  picturesque  apartment  through  the  stained- 
glass  windows. 


GEORGES  OHNET 

From  the  hall  the  left  wing  is  reached,  where  the  re- 
ception-rooms are,  and  one's  eyes  are  dazzled  by  the 
brightness  which  reigns  there.  It  is  like  coming  out 
from  a  cathedral  into  broad  daylight.  The  furniture, 
of  gilt  wood  and  Genoese  velvet,  looks  very  bright.  The 
walls  are  white  and  gold ;  and  flowers  are  everywhere. 
At  the  end  is  Madame  Desvarennes's  bedroom,  be- 
cause she  does  not  like  mounting  stairs,  and  lives  on  the 
ground  floor.  Adjoining  it  is  a  conservatory,  furnished 
as  a  drawing-room,  and  serving  as  a  boudoir  for  the 
mistress  of  the  house. 

The  dining-room,  the  gun-room,  and  the  smoking- 
room  are  in  the  right  wing.  The  gun-room  deserves  a 
particular  description.  Four  glass  cases  contain  guns 
of  every  description  and  size  of  the  best  English  and 
French  manufacture.  All  the  furniture  is  made  of  stags' 
horns,  covered  with  fox-skins  and  wolf-skins.  A  large 
rug,  formed  by  four  bears'  skins,  with  menacing  snouts, 
showing  their  white  teeth  at  the  four  corners,  is  in  the 
centre  of  the  room.  On  the  walls  are  four  paintings  by 
Princeteau,  admirably  executed,  and  representing  hunt- 
ing scenes.  Low  couches,  wide  as  beds,  covered  with 
gray  cloth,  invite  the  sportsmen  to  rest.  Large  dressing- 
rooms,  fitted  up  with  hot  and  cold  water,  invite  them  to 
refresh  themselves  with  a  bath.  Everything  has  been 
done  to  suit  the  most  fastidious  taste.  The  kitchens  are 
underground. 

On  the  first  story  are  the  principal  rooms.  Twelve 
bedrooms,  with  dressing-rooms,  upholstered  in  chintz 
of  charming  design.  From  these,  a  splendid  view  of  the 
park  and  country  beyond  may  be  obtained.  In  the 

rff$  3 


SERGE  PANINE 

foreground  is  a  piece  of  water,  bathing,  with  its  rapid 
current,  the  grassy  banks  which  border  the  wood,  while 
the  low-lying  branches  of  the  trees  dip  into  the  flood,  on 
which  swans,  dazzlingly  white,  swim  in  stately  fashion. 
Beneath  an  old  willow,  whose  drooping  boughs  form 
quite  a  vault  of  pale  verdure,  a  squadron  of  multi-col- 
ored boats  remain  fastened  to  the  balustrade  of  a  land- 
ing stage.  Through  an  opening  in  the  trees  you  see  in 
the  distance  fields  of  yellow  corn,  and  in  the  near  back- 
ground, behind  a  row  of  poplars,  ever  moving  like  a 
flash  of  silver  lightning,  the  Oise  flows  on  between  its 
low  banks. 

This  sumptuous  dwelling,  on  the  evening  of  the  i4th 
of  July,  was  in  its  greatest  splendor.  The  trees  of  the 
park  were  lit  up  by  brilliant  Venetian  lanterns;  little 
boats  glided  on  the  water  of  the  lake  carrying  musicians 
whose  notes  echoed  through  the  air.  Under  a  marquee, 
placed  midway  in  the  large  avenue,  the  country  lads 
and  lasses  were  dancing  with  spirit,  while  the  old  peo- 
ple, more  calm,  were  seated  under  the  large  trees  enjoy- 
ing the  ample  fare  provided.  A  tremendous  uproar  of 
gayety  reechoed  through  the  night,  and  the  sound  of  the 
cornet  attracted  the  people  to  the  ball. 

It  was  nine  o'clock.  Carriages  were  fast  arriving 
with  guests  for  the  mansion.  In  the  centre  of  the  hand- 
some hall,  illuminated  with  electric  light,  stood  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes  in  full  dress,  having  put  off  black  for 
one  day,  doing  honor  to  the  arrivals.  Behind  her  stood 
Marechal  and  Savinien,  like  two  aides-de-camp,  ready, 
at  a  sign,  to  offer  their  arms  to  the  ladies,  to  conduct 
them  to  the  drawing-rooms.  The  gathering  was  nu- 


GEORGES  OHNET 

merous.  Merchant-princes  came  for  Madame  Desva- 
rennes's  sake;  bankers  for  Cayrol's;  and  the  aristocrats 
and  foreign  nobility  for  the  Prince's.  An  assemblage 
as  opposed  in  ideas  as  in  manners:  some  valuing  only 
money,  others  high  birth ;  all  proud  and  elbowing  each 
other  with  haughty  assurance,  speaking  ill  of  each  other 
and  secretly  jealous. 

There  were  heirs  of  dethroned  king?;;  princes  with- 
out portions,  who  were  called  Highness,  and  who  had 
not  the  income  of  their  fathers'  former  chamberlains; 
millionaires  sprung  from  nothing,  who  made  a  great 
show  and  who  would  have  given  half  of  their  possessions 
for  a  single  quartering  of  the  arms  of  these  great  lords 
whom  they  affected  to  despise. 

Serge  and  Cayrol  went  from  group  to  group ;  the  one 
with  his  graceful  and  delicate  elegance ;  the  other  with 
heavy  good-humor,  radiant  and  elated  by  the  conscious- 
ness of  his  triumphs.  Herzog  had  just  arrived,  accom- 
panied by  his  daughter,  a  charming  girl  of  sixteen,  to 
whom  Marechal  had  offered  his  arm.  A  whispering 
was  heard  when  Herzog  passed.  He  was  accustomed 
to  the  effect  which  he  produced  in  public,  and  quite 
calmly  congratulated  Cayrol. 

Serge  had  just  introduced  Micheline  to  Count  Soutz- 
ko,  a  gray-haired  old  gentleman  of  military  appear- 
ance, whose  right  sleeve  was  empty.  He  was  a  veteran 
of  the  Polish  wars,  and  an  old  friend  of  Prince  Panine's, 
at  whose  side  he  had  received  the  wounds  which  had  so 
frightfully  mutilated  him.  Micheline,  smiling,  was  lis- 
tening to  flattering  tales  which  the  old  soldier  was  relat- 
ing about  Serge.  Cayrol,  who  had  got  rid  of  Herzog, 

[120] 


SERGE  PANINE 

was  looking  for  Jeanne,  who  had  just  disappeared  in  the 
direction  of  the  terrace. 

The  rooms  were  uncomfortably  warm,  and  many  of 
the  visitors  had  found  their  way  to  the  terraces.  Along 
the  marble  veranda,  overlooking  the  lake,  chairs  had 
been  placed.  The  ladies,  wrapped  in  their  lace  scarfs, 
had  formed  into  groups  and  were  enjoying  the  delights 
of  the  beautiful  evening.  Bursts  of  subdued  laughter 
came  from  behind  fans,  while  the  gentlemen  talked  in 
whispers.  Above  all  this  whispering  was  heard  the  dis- 
tant sound  of  the  cornet  at  the  peasants'  ball. 

Leaning  over  the  balustrade,  in  a  shady  corner,  far 
from  the  noise  which  troubled  him  and  far  from  the 
fete  which  hurt  him,  Pierre  was  dreaming.  His  eyes 
were  fixed  on  the  illuminations  in  the  park,  but  he  did 
not  see  them.  He  thought  of  his  vanished  hopes.  An- 
other was  beloved  by  Micheline,  and  in  a  few  hours  he 
would  take  her  away,  triumphant  and  happy.  A  great 
sadness  stole  over  the  young  man's  spirit;  he  was  dis- 
gusted with  life  and  hated  humanity.  What  was  to  be- 
come of  him  now  ?  His  life  was  shattered ;  a  heart  like 
his  could  not  love  twice,  and  Micheline's  image  was  too 
deeply  engraven  on  it  for  it  ever  to  be  effaced.  Of  what 
use  was  all  the  trouble  he  had  taken  to  raise  himself 
above  others  ?  A  worthless  fellow  had  passed  that  way 
and  Micheline  had  yielded  to  him.  Now  it  was  all  over! 

And  Pierre  asked  himself  if  he  had  not  taken  a  wrong 
view  of  things,  and  if  it  was  not  the  idle  and  good-for- 
nothing  fellows  who  were  more  prudent  than  he.  To 
waste  his  life  in  superhuman  works,  to  tire  his  mind  in 
seeking  to  solve  great  problems,  and  to  attain  old  age  with- 

[121] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

out  other  satisfaction  than  unproductive  honors  and  mer- 
cenary rewards.  Those  who  only  sought  happiness  and 
joy — epicureans  who  drive  away  all  care,  all  pain,  and 
only  seek  to  soften  their  existence,  and  brighten  their 
horizon— were  they  not  true  sages?  Death  comes  so 
quickly!  And  it  is  with  astonishment  that  one  per- 
ceives when  the  hour  is  at  hand,  that  one  has  not  lived! 
Then  the  voice  of  pride  spoke  to  him:  what  is  a  man 
who  remains  useless,  and  does  not  leave  one  trace  of 
his  passage  through  the  world  by  works  or  discoveries  ? 
And,  in  a  state  of  fever,  Pierre  said  to  himself: 

"I  will  throw  myself  heart  and  soul  into  science;  I 
will  make  my  name  famous,  and  I  will  make  that  un- 
grateful child  regret  me.  She  will  see  the  difference  be- 
tween me  and  him  whom  she  has  chosen.  She  will  un- 
derstand that  he  is  nobody,  except  by  her  money,  whereas 
she  would  have  been  all  by  me." 

A  hand  was  placed  on  his  shoulder;  and  MarechaPs 
affectionate  voice  said  to  him : 

"Well!  what  are  you  doing  here,  gesticulating  like 
that?" 

Pierre  turned  round. 

Lost  in  his  thoughts  he  had  not  heard  his  friend  ap- 
proaching. 

"All  our  guests  have  arrived,"  continued  Marechal. 
"I  have  only  just  been  able  to  leave  them  and  to  come 
to  you.  I  have  been  seeking  you  for  more  than  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour.  You  are  wrong  to  hide  yourself ;  people 
will  make  remarks.  Come  toward  the  house;  it  is  as 
well  to  show  yourself  a  little;  people  might  imagine 
things  which  they  must  not  imagine." 

[122] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"Eh!  let  them  think  what  they  like;  what  does  it 
matter  to  me  ?  "  said  Pierre,  sadly.  "  My  life  is  a  blank." 

"Your  life  may  be  a  blank;  but  it  is  your  duty  not  to 
let  any  one  perceive  it.  Imitate  the  young  Spartan, 
who  smiled  although  the  fox,  hidden  under  his  cloak, 
was  gnawing  his  vitals.  Let  us  avoid  ridicule,  my 
friend.  In  society  there  is  nothing  that  provokes  laugh- 
ter more  than  a  disappointed  lover,  who  rolls  his  eyes 
about  and  looks  woe-begone.  And,  then,  you  see,  suf- 
fering is  a  human  law;  the  world  is  an  arena,  life  is  a 
conflict.  Material  obstacles,  moral  griefs,  all  hinder 
and  overwhelm  us.  We  must  go  on,  though,  all  the 
same,  and  fight.  Those  who  give  in  are  trodden  down ! 
Come,  pull  yourself  together!" 

"And  for  whom  should  I  fight  now?  A  moment  ago 
I  was  making  projects,  but  I  was  a  fool !  All  hope  and 
ambition  are  dead  in  me." 

"Ambition  will  return,  you  may  be  sure!  At  present 
you  are  suffering  from  weariness  of  mind;  but  your 
strength  will  return.  As  to  hope,  one  must  never 
despair." 

"What  can  I  expect  in  the  future?" 

"What?  Why,  everything!  In  this  world  all  sorts 
of  things  happen!"  said  Marechal,  gayly.  "Who  is  to 
prove  that  the  Princess  will  not  be  a  widow  soon?" 

Pierre  could  not  help  laughing  and  said, 

"Come,  don't  talk  such  nonsense!" 

"My  dear  fellow,"  concluded  Marechal,  "in  life  it  is 
only  nonsense  that  is  common-sense.  Come  and  smoke 
a  cigar." 

They  traversed  several  groups  of  people  and  bent 
[123] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

their  steps  in  the  direction  of  the  chateau.  The  Prince 
was  advancing  toward  the  terrace,  with  an  elegantly 
dressed  and  beautiful  woman  on  his  arm.  Savinien,  in 
the  midst  of  a  circle  of  dandies,  was  picking  the  pass- 
ers-by to  pieces  in  his  easy-going  way.  Pierre  and 
Mar6chal  came  behind  these  young  men  without  being 
noticed. 

"  Who  is  that  hanging  on  the  arm  of  our  dear  Prince  ?  " 
asked  a  little  fat  man,  girt  in  a  white  satin  waistcoat,  and 
a  spray  of  white  lilac  in  his  buttonhole. 

"Eh!  Why,  Le  Brede,  my  boy,  you  don't  know  any- 
thing!" cried  Savinien  in  a  bantering,  jocose  tone. 

"Because  I  don't  know  that  lovely  fair  woman?" 
said  Le  Brede,  in  a  piqued  voice.  "I  don't  profess  to 
know  the  names  of  all  the  pretty  women  in  Paris!" 

"In  Paris?  That  woman  from  Paris?  You  have 
not  looked  at  her.  Come,  open  your  eyes.  Pure  Eng- 
lish style,  my  friend." 

The  dandies  roared  with  laughter.  They  had  at 
once  recognized  the  pure  English  style.  They  were  not 
men  to  be  deceived.  One  of  them,  a  tall,  dark  fellow, 
named  Du  Tremblays,  affected  an  aggrieved  air,  and 
said: 

"Le  Brede,  my  dear  fellow,  you  make  us  blush  for 
you!" 

The  Prince  passed,  smiling  and  speaking  in  a  low 
voice  to  the  beautiful  Englishwoman,  who  was  resting 
the  tips  of  her  white  gloved  ringers  on  her  cavalier's 
arm. 

"Who  is  she?"  inquired  Le  Brede,  impatiently. 

"Eh,  my  dear  fellow,  it  is  Lady  Harton,  a  cousin  of 
[124] 


SERGE  PANINE 

the  Prince.  She  is  extremely  rich,  and  owns  a  district 
in  London." 

"They  say  that  a  year  ago  she  was  very  kind  to  Serge 
Panine,"  added  Du  Tremblays,  confidentially. 

"  Why  did  he  not  marry  her,  then,  since  she  is  so  rich  ? 
He  has  been  quite  a  year  in  the  market,  the  dear  Prince." 

"She  is  married." 

"Oh,  that  is  a  good  reason.  But  where  is  her  hus- 
band?" 

"Shut  up  in  a  castle  in  Scotland.  Nobody  ever  sees 
him.  He  is  out  of  his  mind;  and  is  surrounded  by 
every  attention." 

"And  a  strait- waistcoat !  Then  why  does  not  this 
pretty  woman  get  a  divorce?" 

"The  money  belongs  to  the  husband." 

"Really!" 

Pierre  and  Marechal  had  listened,  in  silence,  to  this 
cool  and  yet  terrible  conversation.  The  group  of  young 
men  dispersed.  The  two  friends  looked  at  each  other. 
Thus,  then,  Serge  Panine  was  judged  by  his  compan- 
ions in  pleasure,  by  the  frequenters  of  the  clubs  in  which 
he  had  spent  a  part  of  his  existence.  The  Prince  being 
"in  the  market"  was  obliged  to  marry  a  rich  woman. 
He  could  not  marry  Lady  Harton,  so  he  had  sought 
Micheline.  And  the  sweet  child  was  the  wife  of  such  a 
man !  And  what  could  be  done  ?  She  loved  him ! 

Madame  Desvarennes  and  Micheline  appeared  on 
the  terrace.  Lady  Harton  pointed  to  the  bride  with  her 
fan.  The  Prince,  leaving  his  companion,  advanced 
toward  Micheline. 

"One  of  my  English  relatives,  a  Polish  lady,  mar- 
[125] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

ried  to  Lord  Harton,  wishes  to  be  introduced  to  you," 
said  Serge.    "Are  you  agreeable?" 

"With  all  my  heart,"  replied  the  young  wife,  looking 
lovingly  at  her  husband.  "All  who  belong  to  you  are 
dear  to  me,  you  know." 

The  beautiful  Englishwoman  approached  slowly. 

"The  Princess  Panine!"  said  Serge,  gravely,  intro- 
ducing Micheline,  who  bowed  gracefully.  Then,  with 
a  shade  of  familiarity:  "Lady  Harton!"  continued  he, 
introducing  his  relative. 

"I  am  very  fond  of  your  husband,  Madame,"  said 
the  Englishwoman.  "I  hope  you  will  allow  me  to  love 
you  also ;  and  I  beg  you  to  grant  me  the  favor  of  accept- 
ing this  small  remembrance." 

While  speaking,  she  unfastened  from  her  wrist  a 
splendid  bracelet  with  the  inscription,  Semper. 

Serge  frowned  and  looked  stern.  Micheline,  lower- 
ing her  eyes,  and  awed  by  the  Englishwoman's  gran- 
deur, timidly  said : 

"I  accept  it,  Madame,  as  a  token  of  friendship." 

"I  think  I  recognize  this  bracelet,  Madame,"  ob- 
served Serge. 

"Yes;  you  gave  it  to  me,"  replied  Lady  Harton, 
quietly.  "Semper — I  beg  your  pardon,  Madame,  we 
Poles  all  speak  Latin — Semper  means  'Always!'  It  is 
a  great  word.  On  your  wife's  arm  this  bracelet  will  be 
well  placed.  Au  rei>oir,  dear  Prince.  I  wish  you  every 
happiness." 

And  bowing  to  Micheline  with  a  regal  bow,  Lady 
Harton  took  the  arm  of  a  tall  young  man  whom  she  had 
beckoned,  and  walked  away. 
[126] 


SERGE  PANINE 

Micheline,  amazed,  looked  at  the  bracelet  sparkling 
on  her  white  wrist.  Without  uttering  a  word  Serge  un- 
fastened it,  took  it  off  his  wife's  arm,  and  advancing  on 
the  terrace,  with  a  rapid  movement  flung  it  in  the  water. 
The  bracelet  gleamed  in  the  night-air  and  made  a  brill- 
iant splash;  then  the  water  resumed  its  tranquillity. 
Micheline,  astonished,  looked  at  Serge,  who  came  toward 
her,  and  very  humbly  said : 

"I  beg  your  pardon." 

The  young  wife  did  not  answer,  but  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears;  a  smile  brightened  her  lips,  and  hurriedly 
taking  his  arm,  she  led  him  into  the  drawing-room. 

Dancing  was  going  on  there.  The  young  ladies  of 
Pontoise,  and  the  cream  of  Creil,  had  come  to  the  f£te, 
bent  on  not  losing  such  an  opportunity  of  enjoying 
themselves.  Under  the  watchful  eyes  of  their  mothers, 
who,  decked  out  in  grand  array,  were  seated  along  the 
walls,  they  were  gamboling,  in  spite  of  the  stifling  heat, 
with  all  the  impetuosity  of  young  provincials  habitually 
deprived  of  the  pleasures  of  the  ballroom.  Crossing 
the  room,  Micheline  and  Serge  reached  Madame  Des- 
varennes's  boudoir. 

It  was  delightfully  cool  in  there.  Cayrol  had  taken 
refuge  there  with  Jeanne,  and  Mademoiselle  Susanne 
Herzog.  This  young  girl  felt  uncomfortable  at  being  a 
third  party  with  the  newly-married  couple,  and  wel- 
comed the  arrival  of  the  Prince  and  Micheline  with 
pleasure.  Her  father  had  left  her  for  a  moment  in  Cay- 
rol's  care;  but  she  had  not  seen  him  for  more  than  an 
hour. 

"Mademoiselle,"  said  the  Prince,  gayly,  "a  little 
[127] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

while  ago,  when  I  was  passing  through  the  rooms,  I 
heard  these  words:  'Loan,  discount,  liquidation.'  Your 
father  must  have  been  there.  Shall  I  go  and  seek  him  ?  " 

"I  should  be  very  grateful,"  said  the  young  girl. 

"I  will  go." 

And  turning  lightly  on  his  heels,  happy  to  escape 
Jeanne's  looks,  Serge  reentered  the  furnace.  At  once 
he  saw  Herzog  seated  in  the  corner  of  a  bay-window 
with  one  of  the  principal  stock-brokers  of  Paris.  He 
was  speaking.  The  Prince  went  straight  up  to  him. 

"Sorry  to  draw  you  away  from  the  sweets  of  conver- 
sation," said  he,  smiling;  "but  your  daughter  is  wait- 
ing for  you,  and  is  anxious  at  your  not  coming." 

"Faith!  My  daughter,  yes.  I  will  come  and  see  you 
to-morrow,"  said  he  to  his  companion.  "We  will  talk 
over  this  association:  there  is  much  to  be  gained  by  it." 

The  other,  a  man  with  a  bloated  face,  and  fair  Dun- 
dreary whiskers,  was  eager  to  do  business  with  him. 
Certainly  the  affair  was  good. 

"Oh,  my  dear  Prince,  I  am  happy  to  be  alone  with 
you  for  a  moment!"  said  Herzog,  with  that  familiarity 
which  was  one  of  his  means  of  becoming  intimate  with 
people.  "I  was  going  to  compliment  you!  What  a 
splendid  position  you  have  reached." 

"Yes;  I  have  married  a  charming  woman,"  replied 
the  Prince,  coldly. 

"And  what  a  fortune!"  insisted  the  financier.  "Ah, 
it  is  worthy  of  the  lot  of  a  great  lord  such  as  you  are! 
Oh,  you  are  like  those  masterpieces  of  art  which  need  a 
splendidly  carved  frame!  Well,  you  have  your  frame, 
and  well  gilt  too!" 

[128] 


SERGE  PANINE 

He  laughed  and  seemed  pleased  at  Serge's  happiness. 
He  had  taken  one  of  his  hands  and  was  patting  it  softly 
between  his  own. 

"Not  a  very  'convenient'  mother-in-law,  for  in- 
stance," he  went  on,  good-naturedly;  abut  you  are  so 
charming!  Only  you  could  have  coaxed  Madame  Des- 
varennes,  and  you  have  succeeded.  Oh!  she  likes  you, 
my  dear  Prince;  she  told  me  so  only  a  little  while  ago. 
You  have  won  her  heart.  I  don't  know  how  you  man- 
age it,  but  you  are  irresistible!  By  the  way,  I  was  not 
there  when  the  marriage  contract  was  read,  and  I  forgot 
to  ask  Cayrol.  Under  what  conditions  are  you  mar- 
ried?" 

The  Prince  looked  at  Herzog  with  a  look  that  was 
hardly  friendly.  But  the  financier  appeared  so  indif- 
ferent, that  Serge  could  not  help  answering  him : 

"My  wife's  fortune  is  settled  on  herself." 

"Ah!  ah!  that  is  usual  in  Normandy!"  replied  Her- 
zog with  a  grave  look.  "I  was  told  Madame  Desva- 
rennes  was  a  clever  woman  and  she  has  proved  it.  And 
you  signed  the  contract  with  your  eyes  shut,  my  dear 
Prince.  It  is  perfect,  just  as  a  gentleman  should  do!" 

He  said  this  with  a  good-natured  air.  Then,  sud- 
denly lifting  his  eyes,  and  with  an  ironical  smile  playing 
on  his  lips,  he  added : 

"You  are  bowled  out,  my  dear  fellow,  don't  you 
know?" 

"Sir!"  protested  Serge  with  haughtiness. 

"Don't  cry  out;  it  is  too  late,  and  would  be  useless," 
replied  the  financier.  "Let  me  explain  your  position  to 
you.  Your  hands  are  tied.  You  cannot  dispose  of  a 
9  [  129  ] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

sou  belonging  to  your  wife  without  her  consent.  It  is 
true,  you  have  influence  over  her,  happily  for  you.  Still 
you  must  foresee  that  she  will  be  guided  by  her  mother. 
A  strong  woman,  too,  the  mother!  Ah,  Prince,  you  have 
allowed  yourself  to  be  done  completely.  I  would  not 
have  thought  it  of  you." 

Serge,  nonplussed  for  a  moment,  regained  his  self- 
possession,  and  looked  Herzog  in  the  face: 

"I  don't  know  what  idea  you  have  formed  of  me,  sir, 
and  I  don't  know  what  object  you  have  in  speaking  thus 
to  me." 

"My  interest  in  you,"  interrupted  the  financier. 
"You  are  a  charming  fellow:  you  please  me  much. 
With  your  tastes,  it  is  possible  that  in  a  brief  time  you 
may  be  short  of  money.  Come  and  see  me:  I  will  put 
you  into  the  way  of  business.  Au  revoir,  Prince." 

And  without  giving  Serge  time  to  answer  him,  Herzog 
reached  the  boudoir  where  his  daughter  was  waiting 
with  impatience.  Behind  him  came  the  Prince  looking 
rather  troubled.  The  financier's  words  had  awakened 
importunate  ideas  in  his  mind.  Was  it  true  that  he  had 
been  duped  by  Madame  Desvarennes,  and  that  the 
latter,  while  affecting  airs  of  greatness  and  generosity, 
had  tied  him  like  a  noodle  to  her  daughter's  apron- 
string  ?  He  made  an  effort  to  regain  his  serenity. 

"Micheline  loves  me  and  all  will  be  well,"  said  he  to 
himself. 

Madame  Desvarennes  joined  the  young  married  peo- 
ple. The  rooms  were  clearing  by  degrees.  Serge  took 
Cayrol  apart. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  to-night,  my  dear  fellow? 
[130] 


SERGE  PANINE 

You  know  an  apartment  has  been  prepared  for  you 
here?" 

"Yes,  I  have  already  thanked  Madame  Desvarennes, 
but  I  mean  to  go  back  to  Paris.  Our  little  paradise  is 
prepared  for  us,  and  I  wish  to  enter  it  to-night.  I 
have  my  carriage  and  horses  here.  I  am  taking  away 
my  wife  post-haste." 

"That  is  an  elopement,"  said  Serge,  gayly,  "quite  in 
the  style  of  the  regency!" 

"Yes,  my  dear  Prince,  that's  how  we  bankers  do  it," 
said  Cayrol,  laughing. 

Then  changing  his  tone : 

"See,  I  vibrate,  I  am  palpitating.  I  am  hot  and  cold 
by  turns.  Just  fancy,  I  have  never  loved  before;  my 
heart  is  whole,  and  I  love  to  distraction!" 

Serge  instinctively  glanced  at  Jeanne.  She  was 
seated,  looking  sad  and  tired. 

Madame  Desvarennes,  between  Jeanne  and  Michel- 
ine,  had  her  arms  twined  round  the  two  young  girls. 
Regret  filled  her  eyes.  The  mother  felt  that  the  last 
moments  of  her  absolute  reign  were  near,  and  she  was 
contemplating  with  supreme  adoration  these  two  chil- 
dren who  had  grown  up  around  her  like  two  fragile  and 
precious  flowers.  She  was  saying  to  them, 

"Well,  the  great  day  is  over.  You  are  both  married. 
You  don't  belong  to  me  any  longer.  How  I  shall  miss 
you!  This  morning  I  had  two  children,  and  now " 

"You  have  four,"  interrupted  Micheline.  "Why  do 
you  complain?" 

"I  don't  complain,"  retorted  Madame  Desvarennes, 
quickly. 

[131] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"That's  right!"  said  Micheline,  gayly. 

Then  going  toward  Jeanne : 

"But  you  are  not  speaking,  you  are  so  quiet;  are  you 
ill?" 

Jeanne  shuddered,  and  made  an  effort  to  soften  the 
hard  lines  on  her  face. 

"It  is  nothing.    A  little  fatigue." 

"And  emotion,"  added  Micheline.  "This  morning 
when  we  entered  the  church,  at  the  sound  of  the  organ, 
in  the  midst  of  flowers,  surrounded  by  all  our  friends,  I 
felt  that  I  was  whiter  than  my  veil.  And  the  crossing  to 
my  place  seemed  so  long,  I  thought  I  should  never  get 
there.  I  did  so,  though.  And  now  everybody  calls  me 
'Madame'  and  some  call  me  'Princess.'  It  amuses 
me!" 

Serge  had  approached. 

"But  you  are  a  Princess,"  said  he,  smiling,  "and 
everybody  must  call  you  so." 

"Oh,  not  mamma,  nor  Jeanne,  nor  you,"  said  the 
young  wife,  quickly ;  "always  call  me  Micheline.  It  will 
be  less  respectful,  but  it  will  be  more  tender." 

Madame  Desvarennes  could  not  resist  drawing  her 
daughter  once  more  to  her  heart. 

"Dear  child,"  she  said  with  emotion,  "you  need 
affection,  as  flowers  need  the  sun!  But  I  love  you, 
there." 

She  stopped  and  added : 

"We  love  you." 

And  she  held  out  her  hand  to  her  son-in-law.  Then 
changing  the  subject: 

"But  I  am  thinking,  Cayrol,  as  you  are  returning  to 


SERGE  PANINE 

Paris,  you  might  take  some  orders  for  me  which  I  will 
write  out." 

"What?  Business?  Even  on  my  wedding-day?" 
exclaimed  Micheline. 

"Eh!  my  daughter,  we  must  have  flour,"  replied  the 
mistress,  laughing.  "While  we  are  enjoying  ourselves 
Paris  eats,  and  it  has  a  famous  appetite." 

Micheline,  leaving  her  mother,  went  to  her  husband. 

"Serge,  it  is  not  yet  late.  Suppose  we  put  in  an 
appearance  at  the  work-people's  ball  ?  I  promised  them, 
and  the  good  folks  will  be  so  happy!" 

"As  you  please.  I  am  awaiting  your  orders.  Let  us 
make  ourselves  popular!" 

Madame  Desvarennes  had  gone  to  her  room.  Cayrol 
took  the  opportunity  of  telling  his  coachman  to  drive 
round  by  the  park  to  the  door  of  the  little  conservatory 
and  wait  there.  Thus,  his  wife  and  he  would  avoid 
meeting  any  one,  and  would  escape  the  leave-taking  of 
friends  and  the  curiosity  of  lookers-on. 

Micheline  went  up  to  Jeanne,  and  said : 

"As  you  are  going  away  quietly,  dear,  I  shall  not  see 
you  again  this  evening.  Adieu!" 

And  with  a  happy  smile,  she  kissed  her.  Then  tak- 
ing her  husband's  arm  she  led  him  toward  the  park. 


[i33] 


CHAPTER  X 

CAYROL'S  DISAPPOINTMENT 

;EANNE,  left  alone,  watched  them  as 
they  disappeared  with  the  light  and 
easy  movements  of  lovers. 

Serge,  bending  toward  Micheline, 
was  speaking  tenderly.  A  rush  of 
bitter  feeling  caused  Jeanne's  heart  to 
swell.  She  was  alone,  she,  while  he 
whom  she  loved — her  whole  being  re- 
volted. Unhappy  one!  Why  did  she  think  of  this 
man  ?  Had  she  the  right  to  do  so  now  ?  She  no  longer 
belonged  to  herself.  Another,  who  was  as  kind  to  her 
as  Serge  was  ungrateful,  was  her  husband.  She  thought 
thus  in  sincerity  of  heart.  She  wished  to  love  Cayrol. 
Alas,  poor  Jeanne!  She  would  load  him  with  atten- 
tions and  caresses!  And  Serge  would  be  jealous,  for 
he  could  never  have  forgotten  her  so  soon. 

Her  thoughts  again  turned  to  him  whom  she  wished 
to  forget.  She  made  an  effort,  but  in  vain.  Serge  was 
uppermost ;  he  possessed  her.  She  was  afraid.  Would 
she  never  be  able  to  break  off  the  remembrance? 
Would  his  name  be  ever  on  her  lips,  his  face  ever  before 
her  eyes  ? 

Thank  heaven!  she  was  about  to  leave.    Travelling, 
and  the  sight  of  strange  places  other  than  those  where 
she  had  lived  near  Serge,  would  draw  her  attention  from 
[i34] 


SERGE  PANINE 

the  persecution  she  suffered.  Her  husband  was  about  to 
take  her  away,  to  defend  her.  It  was  his  duty,  and  she 
would  help  him  with  energy.  With  all  the  strength  of 
her  will  she  summoned  Cayrol.  She  clung  violently  to 
him  as  a  drowning  person  catches  at  a  straw,  with  the 
vigor  of  despair. 

There  was  between  Jeanne  and  Cayrol  a  sympa- 
thetic communication.  Mentally  called  by  his  wife,  the 
husband  appeared. 

"Ah!  at  last!  "said  she. 

Cayrol,  surprised  at  this  welcome,  smiled.  Jeanne, 
without  noticing,  added : 

"Well,  Monsieur;  are  we  leaving  soon?" 

The  banker's  surprise  increased.  But  as  this  sur- 
prise was  decidedly  an  agreeable  one  he  did  not  protest. 

"In  a  moment,  Jeanne,  dear,"  he  said. 

"Why  this  delay?"  asked  the  young  wife,  nervously. 

"You  will  understand.  There  are  more  than  twenty 
carriages  before  the  front  door.  Our  coachman  is  driv- 
ing round,  and  we  will  go  out  by  the  conservatory  door 
without  being  seen." 

"  Very  well ;  we  will  wait. " 

This  delay  displeased  Jeanne.  In  the  ardor  of  her 
resolution,  in  the  first  warmth  of  her  struggle,  she 
wished  at  once  to  put  space  between  her  and  Serge. 
Unfortunately,  Cayrol  had  thwarted  this  effort  of  proud 
revolt.  She  was  vexed  with  him.  He,  without  knowing 
the  motives  which  actuated  his  wife,  guessed  that  some- 
thing had  displeased  her.  He  wished  to  change  the  cur- 
rent of  her  thoughts. 

"You  were  marvellously  beautiful  to-night,"  he  said, 


GEORGES  OHNET 

approaching  her  gallantly.  "You  were  much  admired, 
and  I  was  proud  of  you.  If  you  had  heard  my  friends! 
It  was  a  concert  of  congratulations:  What  a  fortunate 
fellow  that  Cayrol  is!  He  is  rich;  he  has  a  charming 
wife !  You  see,  Jeanne,  thanks  to  you,  in  the  eyes  of  all, 
my  happiness  is  complete." 

Jeanne  frowned,  and  without  answering,  shook  her 
head  haughtily.  Cayrol  continued,  without  noticing 
this  forecast  of  a  storm: 

"They  envy  me;  and  I  can  understand  it!  I  would 
not  change  places  with  anybody.  There,  our  friend 
Prince  Panine  is  very  happy ;  he  has  married  a  woman 
whom  he  loves  and  who  adores  him.  Well,  he  is  not 
happier  than  I  am!" 

Jeanne  rose  abruptly,  and  gave  her  husband  a  terri- 
ble look. 

"Monsieur!"  she  cried  with  rage. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Cayrol,  humbly;  "I  ap- 
pear ridiculous  to  you,  but  my  happiness  is  stronger 
than  I  am,  and  I  cannot  hide  my  joy.  You  will  see  that 
I  can  be  grateful.  I  will  spend  my  life  in  trying  to  please 
you.  I  have  a  surprise  for  you  to  begin  with." 

"What  kind  of  surprise?"  asked  Jeanne,  with  in- 
difference. 

Cayrol  rubbed  his  hands  with  a  mysterious  air.  He 
was  enjoying  beforehand  the  pleasant  surprise  he  had 
in  store  for  his  wife. 

"You  think  we  are  going  to  Paris  to  spend  our  honey- 
moon like  ordinary  folk?" 

Jeanne  started.  Cayrol  seemed  unfortunate  in  his 
choice  of  words. 

[136] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"Well,  not  at  all,"  continued  the  banker.  "To- 
morrow I  leave  my  offices.  My  customers  may  say 
what  they  like;  I  will  leave  my  business,  and  we  are 
off." 

Jeanne  showed  signs  of  pleasure.  A  flash  of  joy  lit 
up  her  face.  To  go  away,  that  was  rest  for  her! 

"And  where  shall  we  go?" 

"That  is  the  surprise!  You  know  that  the  Prince 
and  his  wife  intend  travelling!" 

"Yes ;  but  they  refused  to  say  where  they  were  going," 
interrupted  Jeanne,  with  a  troubled  expression. 

"Not  to  me.  They  are  going  to  Switzerland.  Well, 
we  shall  join  them  there." 

Jeanne  arose  like  a  startled  deer  when  it  hears  the 
sound  of  a  gun. 

"  Join  them  there!"  she  exclaimed. 

"Yes;  to  continue  the  journey  together.  A  party  of 
four ;  two  newly-married  couples.  It  will  be  charming. 
I  spoke  to  Serge  on  the  subject.  He  objected  at  first, 
but  the  Princess  came  to  my  assistance.  And  when  he 
saw  that  his  wife  and  I  were  agreed,  he  commenced  to 
laugh,  and  said:  'You  wish  it?  I  consent.  Don't  say 
anything  more ! '  It  is  all  very  well  to  talk  of  love's  soli- 
tude; in  about  a  fortnight,  passed  tete-a-tete,  Serge  will 
be  glad  to  have  us.  We  will  go  to  Italy  to  see  the  lakes; 
and  there,  in  a  boat,  all  four  of  us  will  have  such  pleas- 
ant times." 

Cayrol  might  have  gone  on  talking  for  an  hour,  but 

Jeanne  was  not  listening.    She  was  thinking.    Thus  all 

the  efforts  which  she  had  decided  to  make  to  escape 

from  him  whom  she  loved  would  be  useless.    An  invin- 

[i37] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

cible  fatality  ever  brought  her  toward  him  whom  she 
was  seeking  to  avoid.  And  it  was  her  husband  who  was 
aiding  this  inevitable  and  execrable  meeting.  A  bitter 
smile  played  on  her  lips.  There  was  something  mourn- 
fully comic  in  this  stubbornness  of  Cayrol's,  in  throw- 
ing her  in  the  way  of  Serge. 

Cayrol,  embarrassed  by  Jeanne's  silence,  waited  a 
moment. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked.  "  You  are  just  like 
the  Prince  when  I  spoke  to  him  on  the  subject." 

Jeanne  turned  away  abruptly.  Cayrol's  comparison 
was  too  direct.  His  blunders  were  becoming  weari- 
some. 

The  banker,  quite  discomfited  on  seeing  the  effect  of 
his  words,  continued : 

"You  object  to  this  journey?  If  so,  I  am  willing  to 
give  it  up." 

The  young  wife  was  touched  by  this  humble  servility. 

"Well,  yes,"  she  said,  softly,  "I  should  be  grateful  to 
you." 

"I  had  hoped  to  please  you,"  said  Cayrol.  "It  is  for 
me  to  beg  pardon  for  having  succeeded  so  badly.  Let  us 
remain  in  Paris.  It  does  not  matter  to  me  what  place 
we  are  in!  Being  near  to  you  is  all  I  desire." 

He  approached  her,  and,  with  beaming  eyes,   added : 

"You  are  so  beautiful,  Jeanne;  and  I  have  loved  you 
so  long  a  time!" 

She  moved  away,  full  of  a  vague  dread.  Cayrol,  very 
excitedly,  put  her  cloak  round  her  shoulders,  and  look- 
ing toward  the  door,  added : 

"The  carriage  is  there,  we  can  go  now." 
[138] 


SERGE  PANINE 

Jeanne,  much  troubled,  did  not  rise. 

"Wait  another  minute,"  said  she. 

Cayrol  smiled  constrainedly: 

"A  little  while  ago  you  were  hurrying  me  off." 

It  was  true.  But  a  sudden  change  had  come  over 
Jeanne.  Her  energy  had  given  way.  She  felt  very 
weary.  The  idea  of  going  away  with  Cayrol,  and  of  be- 
ing alone  with  him  in  the  carriage  frightened  her.  She 
looked  vaguely  at  her  husband,  and  saw,  in  a  sort  of 
mist,  this  great  fat  man,  with  a  protruding  shirt-front, 
rolls  of  red  flesh  on  his  neck  above  his  collar,  long  fat 
ears  which  only  needed  gold  ear-rings,  and  his  great 
hairy  hands,  on  the  finger  of  one  of  which  shone  the 
new  wedding-ring.  Then,  in  a  rapid  vision,  she  beheld 
the  refined  profile,  the  beautiful  blue  eyes,  and  the  long, 
fair  mustache  of  Serge.  A  profound  sadness  came 
over  the  young  woman,  and  tears  rushed  to  her 
eyes. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?  You  are  crying!" 
exclaimed  Cayrol,  anxiously. 

"It  is  nothing;  my  nerves  are  shaken.  I  am  think- 
ing of  this  chateau  which  bears  my  name.  Here  I  spent 
my  youth,  and  here  my  father  died.  A  thousand  ties 
bind  me  to  this  dwelling,  and  I  cannot  leave  it  without 
being  overcome." 

"Another  home  awaits  you,  luxuriantly  adorned," 
murmured  Cayrol,  "and  worthy  of  receiving  you.  It  is 
there  you  will  live  henceforth  with  me,  happy  through 
me,  and  belonging  to  me." 

Then,  ardently  supplicating  her,  he  added: 

"Let  us  go,  Jeanne!" 


GEORGES  OHNET 

He  tried  to  take  her  in  his  arms,  but  the  >oung  wife 
disengaged  herself. 

"Leave  me  alone!"  she  said,  moving  away. 

Cayrol  looked  at  her  in  amazement. 

"  What  is  it  ?   You  are  trembling  and  frightened ! " 

He  tried  to  jest : 

"Am  I  so  very  terrible,  then?  Or  is  it  the  idea  of 
leaving  here  that  troubles  you  so  much  ?  If  so,  why  did 
you  not  tell  me  sooner  ?  I  can  understand  things.  Let 
us  remain  here  for  a  few  days,  or  as  long  as  you  like.  I 
have  arranged  my  affairs  so  as  to  be  at  liberty.  Our 
little  paradise  can  wait  for  us." 

He  spoke  pleasantly,  but  with  an  undercurrent  of 
anxiety. 

Jeanne  came  slowly  to  him,  and  calmly  taking  his 
hand,  said: 

"You  are  very  good." 

"I  am  not  making  any  efforts  to  be  so,"  retorted  Cay- 
rol, smiling.  "What  do  I  ask?  That  you  may  be 
happy  and  satisfied." 

"Well,  do  you  wish  to  please  me?"  asked  the  young 
wife. 

"Yes!"  exclaimed  Cayrol,  warmly,  "tell  me  how." 

"Madame  Desvarennes  will  be  very  lonely  to-mor- 
row when  her  daughter  will  be  gone.  She  will  need 
consoling — 

"Ah,  ah,"  said  Cayrol,  thinking  that  he  understood, 
"and  you  would  like " 

"I  would  like  to  remain  some  time  with  her.    You 
could  come  every  day  and  see  us.     I  would  be  very 
grateful  to  you,  and  would  love  you  very  much!" 
[140] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"But — but — but — "  exclaimed  Cayrol,  much  con- 
founded, "you  cannot  mean  what  you  say,  Jeanne! 
What,  my  dear?  You  wish  me  to  return  alone  to  Paris 
to-night?  What  would  my  servants  say?  You  would 
expose  me  to  ridicule!" 

Poor  Cayrol  made  a  piteous  face.  Jeanne  looked  at 
him  as  she  had  never  looked  before.  It  made  his 
blood  boil. 

"Would  you  be  so  very  ridiculous  for  having  been 
delicate  and  tender?" 

"I  don't  see  what  tenderness  has  to  do  with  it,"  cried 
Cayrol;  "on  the  contrary !  But  I  love  you.  You  don't 
seem  to  think  it!" 

"Prove  it,"  replied  Jeanne,  more  provokingly. 

This  time  Cayrol  lost  all  patience. 

"Is  it  in  leaving  you  that  I  shall  prove  it?  Really, 
Jeanne,  I  am  disposed  to  be  kind  and  to  humor  your 
whims,  but  on  condition  that  they  are  reasonable.  You 
seem  to  be  making  fun  of  me!  If  I  give  way  on 
such  important  points  on  the  day  of  our  marriage, 
whither  will  you  lead  me?  No,  no!  You  are  my 
wife.  The  wife  must  follow  her  husband ;  the  law  says 
so!" 

"Is  it  by  law  only  that  you  wish  to  keep  me?  Have 
you  forgotten  what  I  told  you  when  you  made  me  an 
offer  of  marriage?  It  is  my  hand  only  which  I  give 
you." 

"And  I  answered  you,  that  it  would  be  my  aim  to 

gain  your  heart.    Well,  but  give  me  the  means.    Come, 

dear,"  said  the  banker  in  a  resolute  tone,  "you  take  me 

for  a  child.    I  am  not  so  simple  as  that!    I  know  what 

[141] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

this  resistance  means;  charming  modesty  so  long  as  it  is 
not  everlasting." 

Jeanne  turned  away  without  answering.  Her  face 
had  changed  its  expression;  it  was  hard  and  deter- 
mined. 

"Really,"  continued  Cayrol,  "you  would  make  a 
saint  lose  patience.  Come,  answer  me,  what  does  this 
attitude  mean?" 

The  young  wife  remained  silent.  She  felt  she  could 
not  argue  any  longer,  and  seeing  no  way  out  of  her 
trouble,  felt  quite  discouraged.  Still  she  would  not 
yield.  She  shuddered  at  the  very  idea  of  belonging  to 
this  man;  she  had  never  thought  of  the  issue  of  this 
brutal  and  vulgar  adventure.  Now  that  she  realized  it, 
she.  felt  terribly  disgusted. 

Cayrol  anxiously  watched  the  increasing  anguish  de- 
picted on  his  wife's  face.  He  had  a  presentiment  that 
she  was  hiding  something  from  him,  and  the  thought 
nearly  choked  him.  And,  with  this  suspicion,  his  in- 
genuity came  to  his  aid.  He  approached  Jeanne,  and 
said,  affectionately: 

"Come,  dear  child,  we  are  misleading  one  another;  I 
in  speaking  too  harshly,  you  in  refusing  to  understand 
me.  Forget  that  I  am  your  husband ;  see  in  me  only  a 
friend  and  open  your  heart;  your  resistance  hides  a 
mystery.  You  have  had  some  grief  or  have  been  de- 
ceived." 

Jeanne,  softened,  said,  in  a  low  tone: 

"Don't  speak  to  me  like  that;  leave  me." 

"No,"  resumed  Cayrol,  quietly,  "we  are  beginning 
life;  there  must  be  no  misunderstanding.  Be  frank, 


SERGE  PANINE 

and  you  will  find  me  indulgent.  Come,  young  girls  are 
often  romantic.  They  picture  an  ideal;  they  fall  in  love 
with  some  one  who  does  not  return  their  love,  which  is 
sometimes  even  unknown  to  him  who  is  their  hero. 
Then,  suddenly,  they  have  to  return  to  a  reality.  They 
find  themselves  face  to  face  with  a  husband  who  is  not 
the  expected  Romeo,  but  who  is  a  good  man,  devoted, 
loving,  and  ready  to  heal  the  wounds  he  has  not  made. 
They  are  afraid  of  this  husband;  they  mistrust  him, 
and  will  not  follow  him.  It  is  wrong,  because  it  is  near 
him,  in  honorable  and  right  existence,  that  they  find 
peace  and  forgetfulness." 

Cayrol's  heart  was  torn  by  anxiety,  and  with  trem- 
bling voice  he  tried  to  read  the  effect  of  his  words  on 
Jeanne's  features.  She  had  turned  away.  Cayrol  bent 
toward  her  and  said : 

"You  don't  answer  me." 

And  as  she  still  remained  silent,  he  took  her  hand  and 
forced  her  to  look  at  him.  He  saw  that  her  face  was 
covered  with  tears.  He  shuddered,  and  then  flew  into 
a  terrible  passion. 

' '  You  are  crying !   It  is  true  then  ?   You  have  loved  ? ' ' 

Jeanne  rose  with  a  bound;  she  saw  her  imprudence. 
She  understood  the  trap  he  had  laid;  her  cheeks  burned. 
Drying  her  tears,  she  turned  toward  Cayrol,  and  cried: 

"Who  has  said  so?" 

"You  cannot  deceive  me,"  replied  the  banker,  vio- 
lently. "I  saw  it  in  your  looks.  Now,  I  want  to  know 
the  man's  name!" 

Jeanne  looked  him  straight  in  the  face. 

"Never!"  she  said. 

[1433 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"Ah,  that  is  an  avowal!"  exclaimed  Cayrol. 

"You  have  deceived  me  unworthily  by  your  pre- 
tended kindness,"  interrupted  Jeanne,  proudly,  "I  will 
not  say  anything  more." 

Cayrol  flew  at  her — the  churl  reappeared.  He  mut- 
tered a  fearful  oath,  and  seizing  her  by  the  arm,  shouted : 

"Take  care!  Don't  play  with  me.  Speak,  I  insist, 
or — "  and  he  shook  her  brutally. 

Jeanne,  indignant,  screamed  and  tore  herself  away 
from  him. 

"Leave  me,"  she  said,  "you  fill  me  with  horror!" 

The  husband,  beside  himself,  pale  as  death  and 
trembling  convulsively,  could  not  utter  a  word,  and  was 
about  to  rush  upon  her  when  the  door  opened,  and 
Madame  Desvarennes.  appeared,  holding  in  her  hand 
the  letters  which  she  had  written  for  Cayrol  to  take  back 
to  Paris.  Jeanne  uttered  a  cry  of  joy,  and  with  a  bound 
threw  herself  into  the  arms  of  her  who  had  been  a 
mother  to  her. 


[144] 


CHAPTER  XI 

CONFESSION 

?ADAME  DESVARENNES  understood 
the  situation  at  a  glance.  She  beheld 
Cayrol  livid,  tottering,  and  excited. 
She  felt  Jeanne  trembling  on  her 
breast ;  she  saw  something  serious  had 
occurred.  She  calmed  herself  and 
put  on  a  cold  manner  to  enable  her 
the  better  to  suppress  any  resistance 
that  they  might  offer. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  asked,  looking  severely  at 
Cayrol. 

"Something  quite  unexpected,"  replied  the  banker, 
laughing  nervously.  "Madame  refuses  to  follow  me." 
"And  for  what  reason?"  she  asked. 
"She  dare  not  speak!"  Cayrol  resumed,  whose  ex- 
citement increased  as  he  spoke.  "It  appears  she  has 
in  her  heart  an  unhappy  love !  And  as  I  do  not  resemble 
the  dreamed-of  type,  Madame  has  repugnances.  But 
you  understand  the  affair  is  not  going  to  end  there.  It 
is  not  usual  to  come  and  say  to  a  husband,  twelve  hours 
after  marriage,  'Sir,  I  am  very  sorry,  but  I  love  some- 
body else!'  It  would  be  too  convenient.  I  shall  not 
lend  myself  to  these  whims." 

"Cayrol,  oblige  me  by  speaking  in  a  lower  tone," 
10 


GEORGES  OHNET 

said  Madame  Desvarennes,  quietly.     "There  is  some 
misunderstanding  between  you  and  this  child." 

The  husband  shrugged  his  broad  shoulders. 

"A  misunderstanding?  Faith!  I  think  so!  You 
have  a  delicacy  of  language  which  pleases  me !  A  mis- 
understanding! Say  rather  a  shameful  deception !  But 
I  want  to  know  the  gentleman's  name.  She  will  have 
to  speak.  I  am  not  a  scented,  educated  gentleman.  I 
am  a  peasant,  and  if  I  have  to — 

"Enough,"  said  Madame  Desvarennes,  sharply  tap- 
ping with  the  tips  of  her  fingers  Cayrol's  great  fist  which 
he  held  menacingly  like  a  butcher  about  to  strike. 
Then,  taking  him  quietly  aside  toward  the  window,  she 
added : 

"You  are  a  fool  to  go  on  like  this!  Go  to  my  room 
for  a  moment.  To  you,  now,  she  will  not  say  anything; 
to  me  she  will  confide  all  and  we  shall  know  what  to  do." 

Cayrol's  face  brightened. 

"You  are  right,"  he  said.  "Yes,  as  ever,  you  are 
right.  You  must  excuse  me,  I  do  not  know  how  to  talk 
to  women.  Rebuke  her  and  put  a  little  sense  in  her 
head.  But  don't  leave  her;  she  is  fit  to  commit  any 
folly." 

Madame  Desvarennes  smiled. 

"Be  easy,"  she  answered. 

And  making  a  sign  to  Cayrol,  who  was  leaving  the 
room,  she  returned  to  Jeanne. 

"Come,  my  child,  compose  yourself.  We  are  alone 
and  you  will  tell  me  what  happened.  Among  women 
we  understand  each  other.  Come,  you  were  fright- 
ened, eh?" 

[146] 


SERGE  PANINE 

Jeanne  remained  as  one  petrified,  immovable,  and 
dumb.  She  fixed  her  eyes  on  a  flower  which  was  hang- 
ing from  a  vase.  This  red  flower  fascinated  her.  She 
could  not  take  her  eyes  off  it.  Within  her  a  persistent 
thought  recurred :  that  of  her  irremediable  misfortune. 
Madame  Desvarennes  looked  at  her  for  a  moment; 
then,  gently  touching  her  shoulder,  resumed : 

"Won't  you  answer  me ?  Have  you  not  confidence  in 
me  ?  Have  I  not  brought  you  up  ?  And  if  you  are  not 
born  of  me,  have  not  the  tenderness  and  care  I  have 
lavished  upon  you  made  me  your  real  mother?" 

Jeanne  did  not  answer,  but  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"You  know  that  I  love  you,"  continued  the  mistress. 
"Come,  come  to  my  arms  as  you  used  to  do  when  you 
were  little  and  were  suffering.  Place  your  head  there 
on  my  heart  and  let  your  tears  flow.  I  see  they  are  chok- 
ing you." 

Jeanne  could  no  longer  resist,  and  falling  on  her 
knees  beside  Madame  Desvarennes,  she  buried  her  face 
in  the  silky  and  scented  folds  of  her  dress  like  a  fright- 
ened bird  that  flies  to  the  nest  and  hides  itself  under 
the  wings  of  its  mother. 

This  great  and  hopeless  grief  was  to  the  mistress  a 
certain  proof  that  Cayrol  was  right.  Jeanne  had  loved 
and  still  loved  another  man  than  her  husband.  But 
why  had  she  not  said  anything,  and  why  had  she  al- 
lowed herself  to  be  married  to  the  banker?  She  had 
resisted,  she  remembered  now.  She  had  struggled,  and 
the  refusals  they  had  put  down  to  pride  they  must  now 
attribute  to  passion. 

She  did  not  wish  to  be  separated  from  him  whom  she 
[H7] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

loved.  Hence  the  struggle  that  had  ended  in  her  aban- 
doning her  hand  to  Cayrol,  perhaps  in  a  moment  of  de- 
spair and  discouragement.  But  why  had  he  whom  she 
loved  not  married  her?  What  obstacle  had  arisen  be- 
tween him  and  the  young  girl?  Jeanne,  so  beautiful, 
and  dowered  by  Madame  Desvarennes,  who  then  could 
have  hesitated  to  ask  her  hand  ? 

Perhaps  he  whom  Jeanne  loved  was  unworthy  of 
her?  No!  She  would  not  have  chosen  him.  Perhaps 
he  was  not  free  to  marry  ?  Yes,  it  must  be  that.  Some 
married  man,  perhaps!  A  scoundrel  who  did  not  mind 
breaking  a  young  girl's  heart !  Where  had  she  met  him  ? 
In  society  at  her  house  in  the  Rue  Saint-Dominique, 
perhaps!  Who  could  tell?  He  very  likely  still  contin- 
ued to  come  there.  At  the  thought  Madame  Desva- 
rennes grew  angry.  She  wished  to  know  the  name  of 
the  man  so  that  she  might  have  an  explanation  with 
him,  and  tell  him  what  she  thought  of  his  base  conduct. 
The  gentleman  should  have  respectable,  well-educated 
girls  to  trifle  with,  should  he?  And  he  risked  nothing i 
He  should  be  shown  to  the  door  with  all  honors  due  to 
his  shameful  conduct. 

Jeanne  was  still  weeping  silently  at  Madame  Desva- 
rennes's  knee.  The  latter  raised  her  head  gently  and 
wiped  away  the  tears  with  her  lace  pocket-handker- 
chief. 

"Come,  my  child!  all  this  deluge  means  nothing. 
You  must  make  up  your  mind.  I  can  understand  your 
hiding  anything  from  your  husband,  but  not  from  me! 
What  is  your  lover's  name?" 

This  question  so  simply  put,  threw  a  faint  light  on 
[148] 


SERGE  PANINE 

Jeanne's  troubled  brain.  She  saw  the  danger  she  was 
running.  To  speak  before  Madame  Desvarennes!  To 
tell  the  name  of  him  who  had  been  false  to  her!  To 
her!  Was  it  possible?  In  a  moment  she  understood 
that  she  was  about  to  destroy  Micheline  and  Serge. 
Her  conscience  revolted  and  she  would  not.  She  raised 
herself  and  looking  at  Madame  Desvarennes  with  still 
frightened  eyes, 

"For  pity's  sake,  forget  my  tears!  Don't  believe  what 
my  husband  has  told  you.  Never  seek  to  know!  Re- 
main ignorant  as  you  are  on  the  subject!" 

"Then  he  whom  you  love  is  related  to  me,  as  you 
wish  to  hide  his  name  even  from  me,"  said  Madame 
Desvarennes  with  instinctive  anguish. 

She  was  silent.  Her  eyes  became  fixed.  They  looked 
without  seeing.  She  was  thinking. 

"I  beseech  you,"  cried  Jeanne,  madly  placing  her 
hands  before  Madame  Desvarennes's  face  as  if  to  check 
her  scrutiny. 

"If  I  had  a  son,"  continued  the  mistress,  "I  would 
believe — '  Suddenly  she  ceased  speaking;  she  be- 
came pale,  and  bending  toward  Jeanne,  she  looked  into 
her  very  soul. 

"Is  it— "she  began. 

"No!  no!"  interrupted  Jeanne,  terrified  at  seeing 
that  the  mistress  had  found  out  the  truth. 

"You  deny  it  before  I  have  pronounced  the  name?" 
said  Madame  Desvarennes  in  a  loud  voice.  "You  read 
it  then  on  my  lips?  Unhappy  girl!  The  man  whom 
you  love  is  the  husband  of  my  daughter!" 

My  daughter!  The  accent  with  which  Madame  Des- 
['49] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

varennes  pronounced  the  word  "my"  was  full  of  trag- 
ical power.  It  revealed  the  mother  capable  of  doing 
anything  to  defend  the  happiness  of  the  child  whom  she 
adored.  Serge  had  calculated  well.  Between  Jeanne 
and  Micheline,  Madame  Desvarennes  would  not  hesi- 
tate. She  would  have  allowed  the  world  to  crumble 
away  to  make  of  its  ruins  a  shelter  where  her  daughter 
would  be  joyous  and  happy. 

Jeanne  had  fallen  back  overwhelmed.  The  mistress 
raised  her  roughly.  She  had  no  more  consideration 
for  her.  It  was  necessary  that  she  should  speak. 
Jeanne  was  the  sole  witness,  and  if  the  truth  had 
to  be  got  by  main  force  she  should  be  made  to  speak 
it. 

"Ah,  forgive  me!"  moaned  the  young  girl. 

"It  is  not  a  question  of  that!  In  one  word,  answer 
me:  Does  he  love  you ?" 

"Do  I  know?" 

" Did  he  tell  you  he  did?" 

"Yes." 

"And  he  has  married  Micheline!"  exclaimed  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes,  with  a  fearful  gesture.  "  I  distrusted 
him.  Why  did  I  not  obey  my  instinct  ?" 

And  she  began  walking  about  like  a  lioness  in  a  cage. 
Then,  suddenly  stopping  and  placing  herself  before 
Jeanne,  she  continued : 

"You  must  help  me  to  save  Micheline!" 

She  thought  only  of  her  own  flesh  and  blood.  With- 
out hesitation,  unconsciously,  she  abandoned  the  other 
— the  child  of  adoption.  She  claimed  the  safety  of  her 
daughter  as  a  debt. 

[150] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"What  has  she  to  fear?"  asked  Jeanne,  bitterly. 
"She  triumphs,  as  she  is  his  wife." 

"If  he  were  to  abandon  her,"  said  the  mother  with 
anguish.  Then,  reflecting:  "Still,  he  has  sworn  to  me 
that  he  loved  her." 

"He  lied!"  cried  Jeanne,  with  rage.  "He  married 
Micheline  for  her  fortune!" 

"But  why  that?"  inquired  Madame  Desvarennes, 
menacingly.  "Is  she  not  pretty  enough  to  have  pleased 
him  ?  Do  you  think  that  you  are  the  only  one  to  be 
loved?" 

"If  I  had  been  rich  he  would  have  married  me!"  re- 
plied Jeanne,  exasperated. 

She  had  risen  in  revolt.  They  were  treading  too 
heavily  on  her.  With  a  ferocious  cry  of  triumph,  she 
added : 

"The  night  he  used  his  influence  with  me  to  get  me  to 
marry  Cayrol,  he  assured  me  so  on  his  word  of  honor!" 

"Honor!"  ironically  repeated  Madame  Desvarennes, 
overwhelmed.  "How  he  has  deceived  us  all!  But 
what  can  I  do  ?  What  course  can  I  take  ?  A  separa- 
tion? Micheline  would  not  consent.  She  loves  him." 

And,  in  an  outburst  of  fury,  she  cried: 

"Is  it  possible  that  that  stupid  girl  loves  that  worth- 
less dandy?  And  she  has  my  blood  in  her  veins!  If 
she  knew  the  truth  she  would  die!" 

"Am  I  dead?"  asked  Jeanne,  gloomily. 

"You  have  an  energetic  nature,"  retorted  the  mis- 
tress, compassionately;  "but  she  is  so  weak,  so  gentle! 
Ah!  Jeanne,  think  what  I  have  been  to  you;  raise  some 
insurmountable  barrier  between  yourself  and  Serge! 
[151] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

Go  back  to  your  husband.  You  would  not  go  with  him 
a  little  while  ago.  It  was  folly.  If  you  separate  from 
Cayrol,  you  will  not  be  able  to  keep  away  Serge,  and 
you  will  take  my  daughter's  husband  from  her!" 

"Ah!  you  think  only  of  her!  Her,  always!  She 
above  all!"  cried  Jeanne,  with  rage.  "But  me,  I  exist, 
I  count,  I  have  the  right  to  be  protected,  of  being  happy! 
And  you  wish  me  to  sacrifice  myself,  to  give  myself  up  to 
this  man,  whom  I  do  not  love,  and  who  terrifies  me?" 

This  time  the  question  was  plainly  put.  Madame 
Desvarennes  became  herself.  She  straightened  her  fig- 
ure, and  in  her  commanding  voice  whose  authority  no 
one  resisted,  said: 

"What  then?  You  wish  to  be  separated  from  him? 
To  regain  your  liberty  at  the  price  of  scandal?  And 
what  liberty?  You  will  be  repulsed,  disdained.  Be- 
lieve me,  impose  silence  on  your  heart  and  listen  to 
your  reason.  Your  husband  is  a  good,  loyal  man.  If 
you  cannot  love  him,  he  will  command  your  respect. 
In  marrying  him,  you  have  entered  into  engagements 
toward  him.  Fulfil  them;  it  is  your  duty." 

Jeanne  felt  overpowered  and  vanquished.  "But 
what  will  my  life  be?"  she  groaned. 

"That  of  an  honest  woman,"  replied  Madame  Des- 
varennes, with  true  grandeur.  "Be  a  wife;  God  will 
make  you  a  mother,  and  you  will  be  saved." 

Jeanne  bowed  herself  at  these  words.  She  no  longer 
felt  in  them  the  selfishness  of  the  mother.  What  the 
mistress  now  said  was  sincere  and  true.  It  was  no 
longer  her  agitated  and  alarmed  heart  that  inspired  her; 
it  was  her  conscience,  calm  and  sincere. 


SERGE  PANINE 

"Very  well;  I  will  obey  you,"  said  the  young  wife, 
simply.  "Kiss  me  then,  mother." 

She  bent  her  brow,  and  Madame  Desvarennes  let 
tears  of  gratitude  and  admiration  fall  on  it.  Then 
Jeanne  went  of  her  own  accord  to  the  room  door. 

"Come,  Monsieur,"  called  she  to  Cayrol. 

The  husband,  grown  cooler  while  waiting,  and  trou- 
bled at  the  length  of  the  interview,  showed  his  anxious 
face  on  the  threshold.  He  saw  Madame  Desvarennes 
grave,  and  Jeanne  collected.  He  dared  not  speak. 

"Cayrol,  everything  is  explained,"  said  the  mistress. 
"You  have  nothing  to  fear  from  him  whom  you  sus- 
pected. He  is  separated  from  Jeanne  forever.  And, 
besides,  nothing  has  passed  between  him  and  her  who 
is  your  wife  that  could  arouse  your  jealousy.  I  will  not 
tell  you  the  name  of  this  man  now.  But  if  perchance 
he  by  some  impossibility  reappeared  and  threatened 
your  happiness,  I  would  myself — you  understand  me  ? 
— point  him  out  to  you!" 

Cayrol  remained  thinking  for  a  moment;  then  ad- 
dressing Madame  Desvarennes,  replied : 

"It  is  well.    I  have  confidence  in  you." 

Then  turning  toward  Jeanne,  he  added: 

"Forgive  me  and  let  everything  be  forgotten." 

The  mistress's  face  beamed  with  joy,  as  she  followed 
their  departing  figures  with  her  eyes,  and  murmured : 

"Brave  hearts!" 

Then,  changing  her  expression: 

"Now  for  the  other  one!"  exclaimed  she. 

And  she  went  out  on  to  the  terrace. 

[i53] 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   FETE 

[E  air  was  mild,  the  night  clear  and 
bright.  CayroPs  carriage  rolled  rapidly 
along  the  broad  avenue  of  the  park  shad- 
owed by  tall  trees,  the  lanterns  throwing, 
as  they  passed,  their  quivering  light  on 
the  thickets.  The  rumbling  carriages 
took  the  last  guests  to  the  railway  station. 
It  was  past  midnight.  A  nightingale 
began  singing  his  song  of  love  to  the  stars. 

Madame  Desvarennes  mechanically  stopped  to  listen. 
A  sense  of  sorrow  came  over  this  mother  who  was 
a  prey  to  the  most  cruel  mental  anguish.  She 
thought  that  she  could  have  been  very  happy  on  that 
splendid  night,  if  her  heart  had  been  full  of  quietude 
and  serenity.  Her  two  daughters  were  married;  her 
last  task  was  accomplished.  She  ought  to  have  nothing 
to  do  but  enjoy  life  after  her  own  fashioning,  and  be 
calm  and  satisfied.  Instead  of  that,  here  were  fear  and 
dissimulation  taking  possession  of  her  mind;  and  an 
ardent,  pitiless  struggle  beginning  against  the  man  who 
had  deceived  her  daughter  and  lied  to  her.  The  bark 
which  carried  her  fortune,  on  reaching  port,  had  caught 
fire,  and  it  was  necessary  to  begin  laboring  again  amid 
cares  and  pains. 

[i54] 


SERGE  PANINE 

A  dull  rage  filled  her  heart.  To  have  so  surely  built 
up  the  edifice  of  her  happiness,  to  have  embellished  it 
every  hour,  and  then  to  see  an  intruder  audaciously 
taking  possession  of  it,  and  making  his  despotic  and 
hateful  authority  prevail!  And  what  could  she  do 
against  this  new  master?  Nothing.  He  was  marvel- 
lously protected  by  Micheline's  mad  love  for  him.  To 
strike  Serge  would  be  to  wound  Micheline  surely  and 
mortally.  So  this  scoundrel  could  laugh  at  her  and 
dare  her  with  impunity! 

What  must  she  do?  Take  him  aside  and  tell  him 
that  she  knew  of  his  disloyal  conduct,  and  tell  him  of 
her  contempt  and  hatred  for  him?  And  after  that? 
What  would  be  the  consequence  of  this  outburst  of  vio- 
lence? The  Prince,  using  his  power  over  Micheline, 
would  separate  the  daughter  from  the  mother.  And 
Madame  Desvarennes  would  be  alone  in  her  corner, 
abandoned  like  a  poor  dog,  and  would  die  of  despair 
and  anger.  What  other  course  then  ?  She  must  dis- 
semble, mask  her  face  with  indifference,  if  possible  with 
tenderness,  and  undertake  the  difficult  task  of  separat- 
ing Micheline  from  the  man  whom  she  adored.  It  was 
quite  a  feat  of  strategy  to  plan.  To  bring  out  the  hus- 
band's faults  and  to  make  his  errors  known,  and  give 
her  the  opportunity  of  proving  his  worthlessness.  In  a 
word,  to  make  the  young  wife  understand  that  she  had 
married  an  elegant  manikin,  unworthy  of  her  love. 

It  would  be  an  easy  matter  to  lay  snares  for  Serge. 
He  was  a  gambler.  She  could  let  him  have  ready 
money  to  satisfy  his  passion.  Once  in  the  clutches  of 
the  demon  of  play,  he  would  neglect  his  wife,  and  the 


GEORGES  OHNET 

mother  might  regain  a  portion  of  the  ground  she  had 
lost.  Micheline's  fortune  once  broken  into,  she  would 
interpose  between  her  daughter  and  son-in-law.  She 
would  make  him  pull  up,  and  holding  him  tightly  by 
her  purse-strings,  would  lead  him  whither  she  liked. 

Already  in  fancy  she  saw  her  authority  regained,  and 
her  daughter,  her  treasure,  her  life,  true  mistress  of  the 
situation,  grateful  to  her  for  having  saved  her.  And 
then,  she  thought,  a  baby  will  come,  and  if  Micheline  is 
really  my  daughter,  she  will  adore  the  little  thing,  and 
the  blind  love  which  she  has  given  to  her  husband  will 
be  diminished  by  so  much. 

Serge  did  not  know  what  an  adversary  he  had  against 
him  in  his  mother-in-law.  It  was  a  bad  thing  to  cross 
the  mistress  when  business  matters  were  concerned,  but 
now  that  her  daughter's  happiness  was  at  stake!  A 
smile  came  to  her  lips.  A  firm  resolution  from  that 
hour  must  guide  her,  and  the  struggle  between  her  son- 
in-law  and  herself  could  only  end  by  the  crushing  of  one 
of  them. 

In  the  distance  the  music  from  the  work-people's  ball 
was  heard.  Madame  Desvarennes  mechanically  bent 
her  steps  toward  the  tent  under  which  the  heavy  bounds 
of  the  dancers  reechoed.  Every  now  and  then  large 
shadows  appeared  on  the  canvas.  A  joyful  clamor 
issued  from  the  ballroom.  Loud  laughter  resounded, 
mingled  with  piercing  cries  of  tickled  women. 

The  voice  of  the  master  of  the  ceremonies  could  be 
heard  jocose  and  solemn:  "La  poule!  Advance!  Set 
to  partners ! "  Then  the  stamping  of  heavy  shoes  on  the 
badly  planed  floor,  and,  above  all,  the  melancholy 


SERGE  PANINE 

sounds  of  the  clarionet  and  the  shrill  notes  of  the  cornet 
were  audible. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  ballroom,  surrounded  by  ta- 
bles and  stools,  two  barrels  of  wine  on  stands  presented 
their  wooden  taps,  ready  for  those  who  wanted  to 
quench  their  thirst.  A  large  red  mark  under  each  bar- 
rel showed  that  the  hands  of  the  drinkers  were  no  longer 
steady.  A  cake-seller  had  taken  up  his  place  at  the 
other  side,  and  was  kneading  a  last  batch  of  paste, 
while  his  apprentice  was  ringing  a  bell  which  hung  over 
the  iron  cooking-stove  to  attract  customers.  There  was 
an  odor  of  rancid  butter,  spilled  wine,  and  paraffin  oil. 

Adjoining  the  ballroom,  a  merry-go-round,  which 
had  been  the  delight  of  the  village  urchins  all  day,  ap- 
pealed for  custom  by  the  aid  of  a  barrel-organ  on  which 
a  woman  in  a  white  bodice  was  playing  the  waltz  from 
Les  Cloches  de  Corneville. 

The  animation  of  this  fete,  in  the  midst  of  which 
Madame  Desvarennes  suddenly  appeared,  was  a  happy 
diversion  from  the  serious  thoughts  which  beset  her. 
She  remembered  that  Serge  and  Micheline  must  be 
there.  She  came  from  under  the  shadow  of  the  avenue 
into  the  full  light.  On  recognizing  her,  all  the  work- 
people, who  were  seated,  rose.  She  was  really  mistress 
and  lady  of  the  place.  And  then  she  had  fed  these  people 
since  morning.  With  a  sign  she  bade  them  be  seated,  and 
walking  quickly  toward  the  dancing-room,  lifted  the  red 
and  white  cotton  curtain  which  hung  over  the  entrance. 

There,  in  a  space  of  a  hundred  square  yards  or  so, 
about  a  hundred  and  fifty  people  were  sitting  or  stand- 
ing. At  the  end,  on  a  stage,  were  the  musicians,  each 
[i57] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

with  a  bottle  of  wine  at  his  feet,  from  which  they  re- 
freshed themselves  during  the  intervals.  An  impalpa- 
ble dust,  raised  by  the  feet  of  the  dancers,  filled  the  air 
charged  with  acrid  odors.  The  women  in  light  dresses 
and  bareheaded,  and  the  men  arrayed  in  their  Sunday 
clothes,  gave  themselves  up  with  frantic  ardor  to  their 
favorite  pleasure. 

Ranged  in  double  rows,  vis-a-vis,  they  were  waiting 
with  impatience  for  the  music  to  strike  up  for  the  last 
figure.  Near  the  orchestra,  Serge  was  dancing  with  the 
Mayor's  daughter  opposite  Micheline,  whose  partner 
was  the  mayor  himself.  An  air  of  joyful  gravity  lit  up 
the  municipal  officer's  face.  He  was  enjoying  the  honor 
which  the  Princess  had  done  him.  His  pretty  young 
daughter,  dressed  in  her  confirmation  dress,  which  had 
been  lengthened  with  a  muslin  flounce,  a  rose  in  her 
hair,  and  her  hands  encased  in  straw-colored  one-button 
kid  gloves,  hardly  dared  raise  her  eyes  to  the  Prince, 
and  with  burning  cheeks,  answered  in  monosyllables 
the  few  remarks  Serge  felt  forced  to  address  to  her. 

The  orchestra  bellowed,  the  floor  shook;  the  two 
lines  of  dancers  had  advanced  in  a  body.  Madame 
Desvarennes,  leaning  against  the  door-post,  followed 
with  her  eyes  her  daughter,  whose  light  footsteps  con- 
trasted strangely  with  the  heavy  tread  of  the  women 
around  her.  The  mayor,  eager  and  respectful,  followed 
her,  making  efforts  to  keep  up  with  her  without  treading 
on  her  long  train.  It  was, 

"Excuse  me,  Madame  la  Princesse.  If  Madame  la 
Princesse  will  do  me  the  honor  to  give  me  her  hand,  it  is 
our  turn  to  cross." 

[158] 


SERGE  PANINE 

They  had  just  crossed.  Serge  suddenly  found  him- 
self facing  his  mother-in-law.  His  face  lit  up,  and  he 
uttered  a  joyful  exclamation.  Micheline  raised  her 
eyes,  and  following  her  husband's  look,  perceived  her 
mother.  Then  it  was  a  double  joy.  With  a  mischievous 
wink,  Serge  called  Madame  Desvarennes's  attention  to 
the  mayor's  solemn  appearance  as  he  was  galloping 
with  Micheline,  also  the  comical  positions  of  the  rustics. 

Micheline  was  smiling.  She  was  enjoying  herself. 
All  this  homely  gayety,  of  which  she  was  the  cause,  made 
her  feel  happy.  She  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  those 
around  her.  With  her  compassionate  eyes  she  thanked 
her  mother  in  the  distance  for  having  prepared  this  fete 
in  honor  of  her  marriage.  The  clarionet,  violin,  and 
cornet  sounded  a  last  modulation,  then  the  final  cadence 
put  an  end  to  the  bounds  of  the  dances.  Each  took  his 
lady  to  her  place — the  mayor  with  pompous  gait,  Serge 
with  as  much  grace  as  if  he  had  been  at  an  ambassa- 
dor's ball  and  was  leading  a  young  lady  of  highest 
rank. 

Madame  Desvarennes  was  suddenly  surrounded; 
cheers  resounded,  the  band  struck  up  the  Mar- 
seillaise. 

"Let  us  escape,"  said  Serge,  "because  these  good 
people  will  think  nothing  of  carrying  us  in  triumph." 

And  leading  away  his  mother-in-law  and  his  wife, 
he  left  the  ballroom  followed  by  cheers. 

Outside  they  all  three  walked  in  silence.  The  night 
air  was  delightful  after  coming  out  of  that  furnace. 
The  cheering  had  ceased,  and  the  orchestra  was  play- 
ing a  polka.  Micheline  had  taken  her  husband's  arm. 


GEORGES  OHKET 

They  went  along  slowly,  and  close  together.  Not  a 
word  was  exchanged ;  they  all  three  seemed  to  be  listen- 
ing within  themselves.  When  they  reached  the  house, 
they  went  up  the  steps  leading  into  the  greenhouse, 
which  served  also  as  a  boudoir  to  Madame  Des- 
varennes. 

The  atmosphere  was  still  warm  and  scented,  the 
lamps  still  burning.  The  guests  had  left;  Micheline 
looked  round.  The  remembrance  of  this  happy  even- 
ing, which  had  been  the  crowning  of  her  happiness, 
filled  her  heart  with  emotion.  Turning  toward  her 
mother  with  a  radiant  face,  she  cried : 

"Ah!  mamma!  I  am  so  happy,"  and  threw  her  arms 
around  her. 

Serge  started  at  this  cry.  Two  tears  came  to  his 
eyes,  and  looking  a  little  pale,  he  stretched  out  to  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes  his  hands,  which  she  felt  trembling 
in  hers,  and  said: 

"Thank  you." 

Madame  Desvarennes  gazed  at  him  for  a  moment. 
She  did  not  see  the  shadow  of  a  wicked  thought  on  his 
brow.  He  was  sincerely  affected,  truly  grateful.  The 
idea  occurred  to  her  that  Jeanne  had  deceived  her,  or 
had  deceived  herself,  and  that  Serge  had  not  loved  her. 
A  feeling  of  relief  took  possession  of  her.  But  distrust 
had  unfortunately  entered  her  mind.  She  put  away 
that  flattering  hope.  And  giving  her  son-in-law  such  a 
look,  which,  had  he  been  less  moved,  he  would  have 
understood,  she  murmured, 

"We  shall  see." 

[160] 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE   FIRST  BREAK 

first  two  months  of  this  union  were 
truly  enchanting.  Serge  and  Micheline 
never  left  each  other.  After  an  absence 
of  eight  days  they  had  returned  to  Paris 
with  Madame  Desvarennes,  and  the 
hitherto  dull  mansion  in  the  Rue  Saint- 
Dominique  was  filled  with  joyful  bustle. 
The  splendid  stables,  formerly  too  large 
for  the  mistress's  three  horses,  were  now  insufficient  for 
the  service  of  the  Prince.  There  were  eight  splendid  car- 
riagehorses,  a  pair  of  charming  ponies — bought  espe- 
cially for  Micheline's  use,  but  which  the  young  wife  had 
not  been  able  to  make  up  her  mind  to  drive  herself— 
four  saddle-horses,  upon  which  every  morning  about 
eight  o'clock,  when  the  freshness  of  night  had  perfumed 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  the  young  people  took  their  ride 
round  the  lake. 

A  bright  sun  made  the  sheet  of  water  sparkle  between 
its  borders  of  dark  fir-trees;  the  fresh  air  played  in  Mi- 
cheline's veil,  and  the  tawny  leather  of  the  saddles 
creaked.  Those  were  happy  days  for  Micheline,  who 
was  delighted  at  having  Serge  near  her,  attentive  to 
her  every  want,  and  controlling  his  thoroughbred 
English  horse  to  her  gentle  pace.  Every  now  and 
ii  [  161  ] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

then  his  mount  would  wheel  about  and  rear  in  revolt, 
she  following  him  with  fond  looks,  proud  of  the  ele- 
gant cavalier  who  could  subdue  without  apparent  ef- 
fort, by  the  mere  pressure  of  his  thighs,  that  impetuous 
steed. 

Then  she  would  give  her  horse  a  touch  with  the  whip, 
and  off  she  would  go  at  a  gallop,  feeling  happy  with  the 
wind  blowing  in  her  face,  and  he  whom  she  loved  by 
her  side  to  smile  on  and  encourage  her.  Then  they 
would  scamper  along;  the  dog  with  his  thin  body  al- 
most touching  the  ground,  racing  and  frightening  the 
rabbits,  which  shot  across  the  road  swift  as  bullets.  Out 
of  breath  by  the  violent  ride,  Micheline  would  stop,  and 
pat  the  neck  of  her  lovely  chestnut  horse.  Slowly  the 
young  people  would  return  to  the  Rue  Saint-Domi- 
nique, and,  on  arriving  in  the  courtyard,  there  was  such 
a  pawing  of  feet  as  brought  the  clerks  to  the  windows, 
hiding  behind  the  curtains.  Tired  with  healthy  exer- 
cise, Micheline  would  go  smiling  to  the  office  where  her 
mother  was  hard  at  work,  and  say : 

"Here  we  are,  mamma!" 

The  mistress  would  rise  and  kiss  her  daughter  beam- 
ing with  freshness.  Then  they  would  go  up  to  break- 
fast. 

Madame  Desvarennes's  doubts  were  lulled  to  rest. 
She  saw  her  daughter  happy.  Her  son-in-law  was  in 
every  respect  cordial  and  charming  toward  her.  Cay- 
rol  and  his  wife  had  scarcely  been  in  Paris  since  their 
marriage.  The  banker  had  joined  Herzog  in  his  great 
scheme  of  the  "Credit,"  and  was  travelling  all  over 
Europe  establishing  offices  and  securing  openings. 
[162] 


SERGE  PANINE 

Jeanne  accompanied  him.  They  were  then  in  Greece. 
The  young  wife's  letters  to  her  adopted  mother  breathed 
calmness  and  satisfaction.  She  highly  praised  her  hus- 
band's kindness  to  her,  and  said  it  was  unequalled. 

No  allusion  was  made  to  that  evening  of  their  mar- 
riage, when,  escaping  from  Cayrol's  wrath,  she  had 
thrown  herself  in  Madame  Desvarennes's  arms,  and 
had  allowed  her  secret  to  be  found  out.  The  mistress 
might  well  think  then  that  the  thought  which  at  times 
still  troubled  her  mind  was  a  remembrance  of  a  bad 
dream. 

What  contributed  especially  to  make  her  feel  secure 
was  Jeanne's  absence.  If  the  young  woman  had  been 
near  Serge,  Madame  Desvarennes  might  have  trembled. 
But  Micheline's  beautiful  rival  was  far  away,  and  Serge 
seemed  very  much  in  love  with  his  wife. 

Everything  was  for  the  best.  The  formidable  proj- 
ects which  Madame  Desvarennes  had  formed  in  the 
heat  of  her  passion  had  not  been  carried  out.  Serge  had 
as  yet  not  given  Madame  Desvarennes  cause  for  real 
displeasure.  Certainly  he  was  spending  money  foolishly, 
but  then  his  wife  was  so  rich! 

He  had  put  his  household  on  an  extraordinary  foot- 
ing. Everything  that  most  refined  luxury  had  invented 
he  had  introduced  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  for  every- 
day use.  He  entertained  magnificently  several  times  a 
week.  And  Madame  Desvarennes,  from  her  apart- 
ments, for  she  would  never  appear  at  these  grand  recep- 
tions, heard  the  noise  of  these  doings.  This  woman, 
modest  and  simple  in  her  ideas,  whose  luxury  had  al- 
ways been  artistic,  wondered  that  they  could  spend  so 
[163] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

much  on  frivolous  entertainments.  But  Micheline  was 
queen  of  these  sumptuous  ceremonies.  She  came  in 
full  dress  to  be  admired  by  her  mother,  before  going 
down  to  receive  her  guests,  and  the  mistress  had  not 
courage  to  offer  any  remonstrances  as  to  expense  when 
she  saw  her  daughter  so  brilliant  and  contented. 

They  played  cards  very  much.  The  great  colony  of 
foreigners  who  came  every  week  to  Panine's  receptions 
brought  with  them  their  immoderate  passion  for  cards, 
and  he  was  only  too  willing  to  give  way  to  it.  These 
gentlemen,  among  them  all,  almost  without  taking  off 
their  white  kid  gloves,  would  win  or  lose  between  forty 
and  fifty  thousand  francs  at  bouillotte,  just  to  give  them 
an  appetite  before  going  to  the  club  to  finish  the  night 
at  baccarat. 

Meanwhile  the  ladies,  with  their  graceful  toilettes 
displayed  on  the  low  soft  chairs,  talked  of  dress  behind 
their  fans,  or  listened  to  the  songs  of  a  professional 
singer,  while  young  men  whispered  soft  nothings  in 
their  ears. 

It  was  rumored  that  the  Prince  lost  heavily.  It  was 
not  to  be  wondered  at;  he  was  so  happy  in  love!  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes,  who  used  every  means  of  gaining  in- 
formation on  the  subject,  even  to  the  gossip  of  the  ser- 
vants, heard  that  the  sums  were  enormous.  No  doubt 
they  were  exaggerated,  but  the  fact  remained  the  same. 
The  Prince  was  losing. 

Madame  Desvarennes  could  not  resist  the  inclina- 
tion of  finding  out  whether  Micheline  knew  what  was 
going  on,  and  one  morning  when  the  young  wife  came 
down  to  see  her  mother,  dressed  in  a  lovely  pink  gown, 
[164] 


SERGE  PANINE 

the  mistress,  while  teasing  her  daughter,  said,  care- 
lessly : 

"It  seems  your  husband  lost  heavily  last  night." 

Micheline  looked  astonished  at  Madame  Desva- 
rennes,  and  in  a  quiet  voice  replied : 

"A  good  host  may  not  win  from  his  guests;  it  would 
look  as  if  he  invited  them  to  rob  them.  Losses  at  cards 
are  included  in  the  costs  of  a  reception." 

Madame  Desvarennes  thought  that  her  daughter  had 
become  a  very  grand  lady,  and  had  soon  acquired  ex- 
panded ideas.  But  she  dared  not  say  anything  more. 
She  dreaded  a  quarrel  writh  her  daughter,  and  would 
have  sacrificed  everything  to  retain  her  cajoling  ways. 

She  threw  herself  into  her  work  with  renewed 
vigor. 

"If  the  Prince  spends  large  sums,"  she  said  to  her- 
self, "I  will  earn  larger  ones.  There  can  be  no  hole  dug 
deep  enough  by  him  that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  fill 
up." 

And  she  made  the  money  come  in  at  the  door  so  that 
her  son-in-law  might  throw  it  out  of  the  window. 

One  fine  day  these  great  people  who  visited  at  the 
mansion  in  the  Rue  Saint-Dominique  hastened  away  to 
the  country.  September  had  arrived,  bringing  with  it 
the  shooting  season.  The  Prince  and  Micheline  set- 
tled themselves  at  Cernay,  not  as  in  the  first  days  of 
their  marriage  as  lovers  who  sought  quietude,  but  as 
people  sure  of  their  happiness,  who  wished  to  make  a 
great  show.  They  took  all  the  carriages  with  them,  and 
there  was  nothing  but  bustle  and  movement.  The  four 
keepers,  dressed  in  the  Prince's  livery,  came 'daily  for 


GEORGES  OHNET 

orders  as  to  shooting  arrangements.  And  every  week 
shoals  of  visitors  arrived,  brought  from  the  station  in 
large  breaks  drawn  by  four  horses. 

The  princely  dwelling  was  in  its  full  splendor.  There 
was  a  continual  going  and  coming  of  fashionable  world- 
lings. From  top  to  bottom  of  the  castle  was  a  constant 
rustling  of  silk  dresses;  groups  of  pretty  women,  coming 
downstairs  with  peals  of  merry  laughter  and  singing 
snatches  from  the  last  opera.  In  the  spacious  hall  they 
played  billiards  and  other  games,  while  one  of  the  gen- 
tlemen performed  on  the  large  organ.  There  was  a 
strange  mixture  of  freedom  and  strictness.  The  smoke 
of  Russian  cigarettes  mingled  with  the  scent  of  opopo- 
nax.  An  elegant  confusion  which  ended  about  six 
o'clock  in  a  general  flight,  when  the  sportsmen  came 
home,  and  the  guests  went  to  their  rooms.  An  hour 
afterward  all  these  people  met  in  the  large  drawing- 
room;  the  ladies  in  low-bodied  evening  dresses;  the 
gentlemen  in  dress-coats  and  white  satin  waistcoats, 
with  a  sprig  of  mignonette  and  a  white  rose  in  their 
buttonholes.  After  dinner,  they  danced  in  the  draw- 
ing-rooms, where  a  mad  waltz  would  even  restore  en- 
ergy to  the  gentlemen  tired  out  by  six  hours  spent  in 
the  field. 

Madame  Desvarennes  did  not  join  in  that  wild  exist- 
ence. She  had  remained  in  Paris,  attentive  to  business. 
On  Saturdays  she  came  down  by  the  five  o'clock  train 
and  regularly  returned  on  the  Monday  morning.  Her 
presence  checked  their  wild  gayety  a  little.  Her  black 
dress  was  like  a  blot  among  the  brocades  and  satins. 
Her  severe  gravity,  that  of  a  woman  who  pays  and  sees 
[166] 


SERGE  PANINE 

the  money  going  too  fast,  was  like  a  reproach,  silent  but 
explicit,  to  that  gay  and  thoughtless  throng  of  idlers, 
solely  taken  up  by  their  pleasure. 

The  servants  made  fun  of  her.  One  day  the  Prince's 
valet,  who  thought  himself  a  clever  fellow,  said  before 
all  the  other  servants  that  Mother  Damper  had  arrived. 
Of  course  they  all  roared  with  laughter  and  exclaimed : 

"Bother  the  old  woman!  Why  does  she  come  and 
worry  us  ?  She  had  far  better  stop  in  the  office  and  earn 
money;  that's  all  she's  good  for!" 

The  disdain  which  the  servants  learned  from  their 
master  grew  rapidly.  So  much  so  that  one  Monday 
morning,  toward  nine  o'clock,  Madame  Desvarennes 
came  down  to  the  courtyard,  expecting  to  find  the  car- 
riage which  generally  took  her  to  the  station.  It  was 
the  second  coachman's  duty  to  drive  her,  and  she  did 
not  see  him.  Thinking  that  he  was  a  little  late,  she 
walked  to  the  stable-yard.  There,  instead  of  the  vic- 
toria which  usually  took  her,  she  saw  a  large  mail- 
coach  to  which  two  grooms  were  harnessing  the  Prince's 
four  bays.  The  head  coachman,  an  Englishman, 
dressed  like  a  gentleman,  with  a  stand-up  collar,  and  a 
rose  in  his  buttonhole,  stood  watching  the  operations 
with  an  air  of  importance. 

Madame  Desvarennes  went  straight  to  him.  He  had 
seen  her  coming,  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye,  without 
disturbing  himself. 

"How  is  it  that  the  carriage  is  not  ready  to  take  me 
to  the  station?"  asked  the  mistress. 

"I  don't  know,  Madame,"  answered  this  personage, 
condescendingly,  without  taking  his  hat  off. 
[167] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"But  where  is  the  coachman  who  generally  drives 
me?" 

"I  don't  know.  If  Madame  would  like  to  see  in  the 
stables " 

And  with  a  careless  gesture,  the  Englishman  pointed 
out  to  Madame  Desvarennes  the  magnificent  buildings 
at  the  end  of  the  courtyard. 

The  blood  rose  to  the  mistress's  cheeks;  she  gave 
the  coachman  such  a  look  that  he  moved  away  a  little. 
Then  glancing  at  her  watch,  she  said,  coldly: 

"I  have  only  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  the  train 
leaves,  but  here  are  horses  that  ought  to  go  well.  Jump 
on  the  box,  my  man,  you  shall  drive  me." 

The  Englishman  shook  his  head. 

"Those  horses  are  not  for  service;  they  are  only  for 
pleasure,"  he  answered.  "I  drive  the  Prince.  I  don't 
mind  driving  the  Princess,  but  I  am  not  here  to  drive 
you,  Madame." 

And  with  an  insolent  gesture,  setting  his  hat  firmly  on 
his  head,  he  turned  his  back  upon  the  mistress.  At  the 
same  moment,  a  sharp  stroke  from  a  light  cane  made 
his  hat  roll  on  the  pavement.  And  as  the  Englishman 
turned  round,  red  with  rage,  he  found  himself  face  to 
face  with  the  Prince,  whose  approach  neither  Madame 
Desvarennes  nor  he  had  heard. 

Serge,  in  an  elegant  morning  suit,  was  going  round  his 
stables  when  he  had  been  attracted  by  this  discussion. 
The  Englishman,  uneasy,  sought  to  frame  an  excuse. 

"Hold  your  tongue!"  exclaimed  the  Prince,  sharply, 
"and  go  and  wait  my  orders." 

And  turning  toward  the  mistress : 
[168! 


SERGE  PANINE 

"Since  this  man  refuses  to  drive  you,  I  shall  have  the 
pleasure  of  taking  you  to  the  station  myself,"  he  said, 
with  a  charming  smile. 

And  as  Madame  Desvarennes  remonstrated, 

"Oh!  I  can  drive  four-in-hand,"  he  added.  "For 
once  in  my  life  that  talent  will  have  been  of  some  use  to 
me.  Pray  jump  in." 

And  opening  the  door  of  the  mail-coach  he  handed 
her  into  the  vast  carriage.  Then,  climbing  with  one 
bound  to  the  box,  he  gathered  the  reins  and,  cigar  in 
mouth,  with  all  the  coolness  of  an  old  coachman,  he 
started  the  horses  in  the  presence  of  all  the  grooms,  and 
made  a  perfect  semicircle  on  the  gravel  of  the  court- 
yard. 

The  incident  was  repeated  favorably  for  Serge.  It 
was  agreed  that  he  had  behaved  like  a  true  nobleman. 
Micheline  was  proud  of  it,  and  saw  in  this  act  of  defer- 
ence to  her  mother  a  proof  of  his  love  for  her.  As  to 
the  mistress,  she  understood  the  advantage  this  clever 
manoeuvre  gave  to  the  Prince.  At  the  same  time  she 
felt  the  great  distance  which  henceforth  separated  her 
from  the  world  in  which  her  daughter  lived. 

The  insolence  of  that  servant  was  a  revelation  to  her. 
They  despised  her.  The  Prince's  coachman  would  not 
condescend  to  drive  a  plebeian  like  her.  She  paid  the 
wages  of  these  servants  to  no  purpose.  Her  plebeian 
origin  and  business  habits  were  a  vice.  They  submitted 
to  her ;  they  did  not  respect  her. 

Although  her  son-in-law  and  daughter  were  perfect 
toward  her  in  their  behavior,  she  became  gloomy  and 
dull,  and  but  seldom  went  now  to  Cernay.  She  felt  in 
[169] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

the  way,  and  uncomfortable.  The  smiling  and  super- 
ficial politeness  of  the  visitors  irritated  her  nerves. 
These  people  were  too  well  bred  to  be  rude  toward  Pa- 
nine's  mother-in-law,  but  she  felt  that  their  politeness 
was  forced.  Under  their  affected  nicety  she  detected 
irony.  She  began  to  hate  them  all. 

Serge,  sovereign  lord  of  Cernay,  was  really  happy. 
Every  moment  he  experienced  new  pleasure  in  gratify- 
ing his  taste  for  luxury.  His  love  for  horses  grew  more 
and  more.  He  gave  orders  to  have  a  model  stud-house 
erected  in  the  park  amid  the  splendid  meadows  watered 
by  the  Oise;  and  bought  stallions  and  breeding  mares 
from  celebrated  English  breeders.  He  contemplated 
starting  a  racing  stable. 

One  day  when  Madame  Desvarennes  arrived  at  Cer- 
nay, she  was  surprised  to  see  the  greensward  bordering 
the  woods  marked  out  with  white  stakes.  She  asked 
inquiringly  what  these  stakes  meant?  Micheline  an- 
swered in  an  easy  tone : 

"Ah!  you  saw  them?  That  is  the  track  for  training. 
We  made  Mademoiselle  de  Cernay  gallop  there  to-day. 
She's  a  level-going  filly  with  which  Serge  hopes  to  win 
the  next  Poule  des  Produits." 

The  mistress  was  amazed.  A  child  who  had  been 
brought  up  so  simply,  in  spite  of  her  large  fortune,  a 
little  commoner,  speaking  of  level-going  fillies  and  the 
Poule  des  Produits!  What  a  change  had  come  over  her 
and  what  incredible  influence  this  frivolous,  vain  Pa- 
nine  had  over  that  young  and  right-minded  girl!  And 
that  in  a  few  months!  What  would  it  be  later?  He 
would  succeed  in  imparting  to  her  his  tastes  and  would 
[170] 


SERGE  PANINE 

mould  her  to  his  whims,  and  the  young  modest  girl 
whom  he  had  received  from  the  mother  would  become 
a  horsey  and  fast  woman. 

Was  it  possible  that  Micheline  could  be  happy  in 
that  hollow  and  empty  life  ?  The  love  of  her  husband 
satisfied  her.  His  love  was  all  she  asked  for,  all  else 
was  indifferent  to  her.  Thus  of  her  mother,  the  im- 
passioned toiler,  was  born  the  passionate  lover!  All  the 
fervency  which  the  mother  had  given  to  business,  Mi- 
cheline had  given  to  love. 

Moreover,  Serge  behaved  irreproachably.  One 
must  do  him  that  justice.  Not  even  an  appearance 
accused  him.  He  was  faithful,  unlikely  as  that  may 
seem  in  a  man  of  his  kind ;  he  never  left  his  wife.  He 
had  hardly  ever  gone  out  without  her;  they  were  a 
couple  of  turtle-doves.  They  were  laughed  at. 

"The  Princess  has  tied  a  string  round  Serge's  foot," 
was  said  by  some  of  Serge's  former  woman  friends! 

It  was  something  to  be  sure  of  her  daughter's  happi- 
ness. That  happiness  was  dearly  bought;  but  as  the 
proverb  says: 

"Money  troubles  are  not  mortal!" 

And,  besides,  it  was  evident  that  the  Prince  did  not 
keep  account  of  his  money;  his  hand  was  always  open. 
And  never  did  a  great  lord  do  more  honor  to  his  fortune. 
Panine,  in  marrying  Micheline,  had  found  the  mistress's 
cash-box  at  his  disposal. 

This  prodigious  cash-box  had  seemed  to  him  inex- 
haustible, and  he  had  drawn  on  it  like  a  Prince  in  the 
Arabian  Nights  on  the  treasure  of  the  genii. 

Perhaps  it  would  suffice  to  let  him  see  that  he  was 


GEORGES  OHNET 

spending  the  capital  as  well  as  the  income  to  make  him 
alter  his  line  of  conduct.  At  all  events,  the  moment  was 
not  yet  opportune,  and,  besides,  the  amount  was  not  yet 
large  enough.  Cry  out  about  some  hundred  thousand 
francs!  Madame  Desvarennes  would  be  thought  a 
miser  and  would  be  covered  with  shame.  She  must 
wait. 

And,  shut  up  in  her  office  in  the  Rue  Saint-Domi- 
nique with  Marechal,  who  acted  as  her  confidant,  she 
worked  with  heart  and  soul  full  of  passion  and  anger, 
making  money.  It  was  fine  to  witness  the  duel  between 
these  two  beings:  the  one  useful,  the  other  useless; 
one  sacrificing  everything  to  work,  the  other  everything 
to  pleasure. 

Toward  the  end  of  October,  the  weather  at  Cernay 
became  unsettled,  and  Micheline  complained  of  the 
cold.  Country  life  so  pleased  Serge  that  he  turned  a 
deaf  ear  to  her  complaints.  But  lost  in  that  large  house, 
the  autumn  winds  rustling  through  the  trees,  whose 
leaves  were  tinted  with  yellow,  Micheline  became  sad, 
and  the  Prince  understood  that  it  was  time  to  go  back 
to  Paris. 

The  town  seemed  deserted  to  Serge.  Still,  returning 
to  his  splendid  apartments  was  a  great  satisfaction  and 
pleasure  to  him.  Everything  appeared  new.  He  re- 
viewed the  hangings,  the  expensive  furniture,  the  paint- 
ings and  rare  objects.  He  was  charmed.  It  was  really 
of  wonderful  beauty,  and  the  cage  seemed  worthy  of 
the  bird.  For  several  evenings  he  remained  quietly  at 
home  with  Micheline,  in  the  little  silver-gray  drawing- 
room  that  was  his  favorite  room.  He  looked  through 


SERGE  PANINE 

albums,  too,  while  his  wife  played  at  her  piano  quietly 
or  sang. 

They  retired  early  and  came  down  late.  Then  he 
had  become  a  gourmand.  He  spent  hours  in  arrang- 
ing menus  and  inventing  unknown  dishes  about  which 
he  consulted  his  chef,  a  cook  of  note. 

He  rode  in  the  Bois  in  the  course  of  the  day,  but  did 
not  meet  any  one  there ;  for  of  every  two  carriages  one 
was  a  hackney  coach  with  a  worn-out  sleepy  horse,  his 
head  hanging  between  his  knees,  going  the  round  of  the 
lake.  He  ceased  going  to  the  Bois,  and  went  out  on  foot 
in  the  Champs-Elysees.  He  crossed  the  Pont  de  la 
Concorde,  and  walked  up  and  down  the  avenues  near 
the  Cirque. 

He  was  wearied.  Life  had  never  appeared  so  mo- 
notonous to  him.  Formerly  he  had  at  least  the  preoc- 
cupations of  the  future.  He  asked  himself  how  he 
could  alter  the  sad  condition  in  which  he  vegetated! 
Shut  up  in  this  happy  existence,  without  a  care  or  a 
cross,  he  grew  weary  like  a  prisoner  in  his  cell.  He 
longed  for  the  unforeseen;  his  wife  irritated  him,  she 
was  of  too  equable  a  temperament.  She  always  met 
him  with  the  same  smile  on  her  lips.  And  then  happi- 
ness agreed  with  her  too  well;  she  was  growing 
stout. 

One  day,  on  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens,  Serge  met  an 
old  friend,  the  Baron  de  Prefont,  a  hardened  roue.  He 
had  not  seen  him  since  his  marriage.  It  was  a  pleasure 
to  him.  They  had  a  thousand  things  to  say  to  each 
other.  And  walking  along,  they  came  to  the  Rue 
Royale. 

[i73] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"Come  to  the  club,"  said  Prefont,  taking  Serge  by 
the  arm. 

The  Prince,  having  nothing  else  to  do,  allowed  him- 
self to  be  led  away,  and  went.  He  felt  a  strange  pleas- 
ure in  those  large  rooms  of  the  club,  the  Grand  Cercle, 
with  their  glaring  furniture.  The  common  easy-chairs, 
covered  with  dark  leather,  seemed  delightful.  He  did 
not  notice  the  well-worn  carpets  burned  here  and  there 
by  the  hot  cigar-ash;  the  strong  smell  of  tobacco,  im- 
pregnated in  the  curtains,  did  not  make  him  feel  qualm- 
ish. He  was  away  from  home,  and  was  satisfied  with 
anything  for  a  change.  He  had  been  domesticated 
long  enough. 

One  morning,  taking  up  the  newspaper,  a  name 
caught  Madame  Desvarennes's  eye — that  of  the  Prince. 
She  read : 

"The  golden  book  of  the  Grand  Cercle  has  just  had 
another  illustrious  name  inscribed  in  it.  The  Prince 
Panine  was  admitted  yesterday,  proposed  by  the  Baron 
de  Prefont  and  the  Due  de  Bligny." 

These  few  lines  made  Madame  Desvarennes's  blood 
boil.  Her  ears  tingled  as  if  all  the  bells  of  Saint-Etienne- 
du-Mont  had  been  rung  together.  In  a  rapid  vision, 
she  saw  misfortune  coming.  Her  son-in-law,  that  born 
gambler,  at  the  Grand  Cercle !  No  more  smiles  for  Mi- 
cheline;  henceforth  she  had  a  terrible  rival — the  de- 
vouring love  of  play. 

Then  Madame  Desvarennes  reflected.  The  hus- 
band's deserting  his  fireside  would  be  salvation  for  her- 
self. The  door  by  which  he  went  out,  would  serve  as 
an  entrance  for  her.  The  plan  which  she  had  conceived 


SERGE  PANINE 

at  Cernay  that  terrible  night  of  the  marriage  when 
Jeanne  had  confided  in  her,  remained  for  her  to  exe- 
cute. By  opening  her  purse  widely  to  the  Prince,  she 
would  help  him  in  his  vice.  And  she  would  infallibly 
succeed  in  separating  Serge  and  Micheline. 

But  the  mistress  checked  herself.  Lend  her  hands  to 
the  destruction  of  her  son-in-law  in  a  fit  of  fierce  mater- 
nal egoism  ?  Was  it  not  unworthy  of  her  ?  How  many 
tears  would  the  Prince's  errors  cost  her  whom  she 
wished  to  regain  at  all  price?  And  then  would  she  al- 
ways be  there  to  compensate  by  her  devoted  affection 
the  bitterly  regretted  estrangement  from  the  husband? 
She  would,  in  dying,  leave  the  household  disunited. 

She  was  horrified  at  what  she  had  for  an  instant 
dreamed  of  doing.  And  instead  of  helping  the  Prince 
on  to  destruction,  she  determined  to  do  all  in  her  power 
to  keep  him  in  the  path  of  honor.  That  resolution 
formed,  Madame  Desvarennes  was  satisfied.  She  felt 
superior  to  Serge,  and  to  a  mind  like  hers  the  thought 
was  strengthening. 

The  admission  to  the  Grand  Cercle  gave  Serge  a 
powerful  element  of  interest  in  life.  He  had  to  mance- 
vre  to  obtain  his  liberty.  His  first  evenings  spent  from 
home  troubled  Micheline  deeply.  The  young  wife  was 
jealous  when  she  saw  her  husband  going  out.  She 
feared  a  rival,  and  trembled  for  her  love.  Serge's  mys- 
terious conduct  caused  her  intolerable  torture.  She 
dared  .not  say  anything  to  her  mother,  and  remained 
perfectly  quiet  on  the  subject  before  her  husband.  She 
sought  discreetly,  listened  to  the  least  word  that  might 
throw  any  light  on  the  matter. 
[i75] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

One  day  she  found  an  ivory  counter,  bearing  the 
stamp  of  the  Grand  Cercle,  in  her  husband's  dressing- 
room.  It  was  in  the  Rue  Royale  then  that  her  husband 
spent  his  evenings.  This  discovery  was  a  great  relief  to 
her.  It  was  not  very  wrong  to  go  there,  and  if  the  Prince 
did  go  and  smoke  a  few  cigars  and  have  a  game  at 
bouillotte,  it  was  not  a  very  great  crime.  The  return  of 
his  usual  friends  to  Paris  and  the  resumption  of  their 
receptions  would  bring  him  home  again. 

Serge  now  left  Micheline  about  ten  o'clock  in  the 
evening  regularly  and  arrived  at  the  club  about  eleven. 
High  play  did  not  commence  until  after  midnight. 
Then  he  seated  himself  at  the  gaming-table  with  all  the 
ardor  of  a  professional  gambler.  His  face  changed  its 
expression.  When  winning,  it  was  animated  with  an 
expression  of  awful  joy ;  when  losing,  he  looked  as  hard 
as  a  stone,  his  features  contracted,  and  his  eyes  were 
full  of  gloomy  fire.  He  bit  his  mustache  convulsively. 
Moreover,  always  silent,  winning  or  losing  with  superb 
indifference. 

He  lost.  His  bad  luck  had  followed  him.  At  the 
club  his  losses  were  no  longer  limited .  There  was  always 
some  one  willing  to  take  a  hand,  and  until  dawn  he 
played,  wasting  his  life  and  energies  to  satisfy  his  insane 
love  of  gambling. 

One  morning,  Marechal  entered  Madame  Desva- 
rennes's  private  office,  holding  a  little  square  piece  of 
paper.  Without  speaking  a  word,  he  placed  it  on  the 
desk.  The  mistress  took  it,  read  what  was  written  upon 
it  in  shaky  handwriting,  and  suddenly  becoming  pur- 
ple, rose.  The  paper  bore  these  simple  words: 
[176] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"  Received  from  Monsieur  Salignon  the  sum  of  one 
hundred  thousand  francs.  Serge  Panine." 

"Who  brought  this  paper?"  asked  Madame  Desva- 
rennes,  crushing  it  between  her  fingers. 

"The  waiter  who  attends  the  card-room  at  the  club." 

"The  waiter?"  cried  Madame  Desvarennes,  aston- 
ished. 

"Oh,  he  is  a  sort  of  banker,"  said  Marechal.  "These 
gentlemen  apply  to  him  when  they  run  short  of  money. 
The  Prince  must  have  found  himself  in  that  predica- 
ment. Still  he  has  just  received  the  rents  for  the  prop- 
erty in  the  Rue  de  Rivoli." 

"The  rents!"  grumbled  Madame  Desvarennes,  with 
an  energetic  movement.  "The  rents!  A  drop  of  water 
in  a  river!  You  don't  know  that  he  is  a  man  to  lose 
the  hundred  thousand  francs  which  they  claim,  in  one 
night." 

The  mistress  paced  up  and  down  the  room.  She  sud- 
denly came  to  a  standstill.  "If  I  don't  stop  him,  the 
rogue  will  sell  the  feather-bed  from  under  my  daughter ! 
But  he  shall  have  a  little  of  my  mind !  He  has  provoked 
me  long  enough.  Pay  it!  I'll  take  my  money's  worth 
out  of  him." 

And  in  a  second,  Madame  Desvarennes  was  in  the 
Prince's  room. 

Serge,  after  a  delicate  breakfast,  was  smoking  and 
dozing  on  the  smoking-room  sofa.  The  night  had  been 
a  heavy  one  for  him.  He  had  won  two  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  francs  from  Ibrahim  Bey,  then  he  had 
lost  all,  besides  five  thousand  louis  advanced  by  the 
obliging  Salignon.  He  had  told  the  waiter  to  come  to 

12  [177] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

the  Rue  Saint-Dominique,  and  by  mistake  the  man  had 
gone  to  the  office. 

The  sudden  opening  of  the  smoking-room  door 
roused  Serge.  He  unclosed  his  eyes  and  looked  very 
much  astonished  at  seeing  Madame  Desvarennes  ap- 
pear. Pale,  frowning,  and  holding  the  accusing  paper 
in  her  hand,  she  angrily  inquired: 

"Do  you  recognize  that?"  and  placed  the  receipt 
which  he  had  signed,  before  him,  as  he  slowly  rose. 

Serge  seized  it  quickly,  and  then  looking  coldly  at  his 
mother-in-law,  said: 

"How  did  this  paper  come  into  your  hands?" 

"It  has  just  been  brought  to  my  cashier.  A  hun- 
dred thousand  francs!  Faith!  You  are  going  ahead! 
Do  you  know  how  many  bushels  of  corn  must  be  ground 
to  earn  that?" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Madame,"  said  the  Prince,  in- 
terrupting Madame  Desvarennes.  "I  don't  suppose 
you  came  here  to  give  me  a  lesson  in  commercial  statis- 
tics. This  paper  was  presented  to  your  cashier  by  mis- 
take. I  was  expecting  it,  and  here  is  the  money  ready 
to  pay  it.  As  you  have  been  good  enough  to  do  so,  pray 
refund  yourself." 

And  taking  a  bundle  of  bank-notes  from  a  cabinet, 
the  Prince  handed  them  to  the  astonished  mistress. 

"But,"  she  sought  to  say,  very  much  put  out  by  this 
unexpected  answer,  "where  did  you  get  this  money 
from?  You  must  have  inconvenienced  yourself." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  Prince,  quietly,  "that 
only  concerns  myself.  Be  good  enough  to  see  whether 
the  amount  is  there,"  added  he  with  a  smile.  "I 
[178] 


SERGE  PANINE 

reckon  so  badly  that  it  is  possible  I  may  have  made  a 
mistake  to  your  disadvantage." 

Madame  Desvarennes  pushed  away  the  hand  which 
presented  the  bank-notes,  and  shook  her  head  gravely : 

"Keep  this  money,"  she  said;  "unfortunately  you 
will  need  it.  You  have  entered  on  a  very  dangerous 
path,  which  grieves  me  very  much.  I  would  willingly 
give  ten  times  the  amount,  at  once,  to  be  sure  that  you 
would  never  touch  another  card." 

"Madame!"  said  the  Prince  with  impatience. 

"Oh!  I  know  what  I  am  risking  by  speaking  thus — 
It  weighs  so  heavily  on  my  heart.  I  must  give  vent  to 
it  or  I  shall  choke.  You  are  spending  money  like  a 
man  who  does  not  know  what  it  is  to  earn  it.  And  if 
you  continue " 

Madame  Desvarennes  raised  her  eyes  and  looked  at 
the  Prince.  She  saw  him  so  pale  with  suppressed  rage 
that  she  dared  not  say  another  word.  She  read  deadly 
hatred  in  the  young  man's  look.  Frightened  at  what 
she  had  just  been  saying,  she  stepped  back,  and  went 
quickly  toward  the  door. 

"Take  this  money,  Madame,"  said  Serge,  in  a  trem- 
bling voice.  "Take  it,  or  all  is  over  between  us  for- 
ever." 

And,  seizing  the  notes,  he  put  them  by  force  in  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes's  hands.  Then  tearing  up  with  rage 
the  paper  that  had  been  the  cause  of  this  painful  scene, 
he  threw  the  pieces  in  the  fireplace. 

Deeply  affected,  Madame  Desvarennes  descended  the 
stairs  which  she  had  a  few  minutes  before  gone  up  with 
so  much  resolution.  She  had  a  presentiment  that  an 


GEORGES  OHNET 

irreparable  rupture  had  just  taken  place  between  hex 
self  and  her  son-in-law.  She  had  ruffled  Panine's  pride, 
She  felt  that  he  would  never  forgive  her.  She  went  to 
her  room  sad  and  thoughtful.  Life  was  becoming 
gloomy  for  this  poor  woman.  Her  confidence  in  her- 
self had  disappeared.  She  hesitated  now,  and  was  irres- 
olute when  she  had  to  take  a  decision.  She  no  longer 
went  straight  to  the  point  by  the  shortest  road.  Her 
sonorous  voice  was  softened.  She  was  no  longer  the 
same  willing  energetic  woman  who  feared  no  obstacles. 
She  had  known  defeat. 

The  attitude  of  her  daughter  had  changed  toward  her. 
It  seemed  as  if  Micheline  wished  to  absolve  herself  of 
all  complicity  with  Madame  Desvarennes.  She  kept 
away  to  prove  to  her  husband  that  if  her  mother  had 
displeased  him  in  any  way,  she  had  nothing  to  do  with 
it.  This  behavior  grieved  her  mother,  who  felt  that 
Serge  was  working  secretly  to  turn  Micheline  against 
her.  And  the  mad  passion  of  the  young  wife  for  him 
whom  she  recognized  as  her  master  did  not  allow  the 
mother  to  doubt  which  side  she  would  take  if  ever  she 
had  to  choose  between  husband  and  mother. 

One  day  Micheline  came  down  to  see  her  mother. 
It  was  more  than  a  month  since  she  had  visited  her.  In 
a  moment  Madame  Desvarennes  saw  that  she  had 
something  of  an  embarrassing  nature  to  speak  of.  To 
begin  with  she  was  more  affectionate  than  usual,  seem- 
ing to  wish  with  the  honey  of  her  kisses  to  sweeten  the 
bitter  cross  which  the  mistress  was  doomed  to  bear. 
Then  she  hesitated.  She  fidgeted  about  the  room  hum- 
ming. At  last  she  said  that  the  doctor  had  come  at  the 
[180] 


SERGE  PANINE 

request  of  Serge,  who  was  most  anxious  about  his  wife's 
health.  And  that  excellent  Doctor  Rigaud,  who  had 
known  her  from  a  child,  had  found  her  suffering  from 
great  weakness.  He  had  ordered  change  of  air. 

At  these  words  Madame  Desvarennes  raised  her 
head  and  gave  her  daughter  a  terrible  look : 

"Come,  no  nonsense!  Speak  the  truth!  He  is  tak- 
ing you  away!" 

"But,  mamma,"  said  Micheline,  disconcerted  at  this 
interruption,  "I  assure  you,  you  are  mistaken.  Anxiety 
for  my  health  alone  guides  my  husband." 

"Your  husband!"  broke  forth  Madame  Desvarennes. 
"Your  husband!  Ah,  there;  go  away!  Because  if  you 
stop  here,  I  shall  not  be  able  to  control  myself,  and  shall 
say  things  about  him  that  you  will  not  forgive  in  a 
hurry!  As  you  are  ill,  you  are  right  to  have  change  of 
air.  I  shall  remain  here,  without  you,  fastened  to  my 
chain,  earning  money  for  you  while  you  are  far  away. 
Go  along!" 

And  seizing  her  daughter  by  the  arm  with  convulsive 
strength,  she  pushed  her  roughly,  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life,  repeating,  in  a  low  tone : 

'  *  Go  away !   Leave  me  alone ! ' ' 

Micheline  suffered  herself  to  be  put  outside  the  room, 
and  went  to  her  own  apartments  astonished  and  fright- 
ened. The  young  wife  had  hardly  left  the  room  when 
Madame  Desvarennes  suffered  the  reaction  of  the  emo- 
tion she  had  just  felt.  Her  nerves  were  unstrung,  and 
falling  on  a  chair  she  remained  immovable  and  hum- 
bled. Was  it  possible  that  her  daughter,,  her  adored 
child,  would  abandon  her  to  obey  the  grudges  of  her  hus- 


GEORGES  OHNET 

band  ?  No,  Micheline,  when  back  in  her  room,  would 
remember  that  she  was  carrying  away  all  the  joy  of  the 
house,  and  that  it  was  cruel  to  deprive  her  mother  of 
her  only  happiness  in  life. 

Slightly  reassured,  she  went  down  to  the  office.  As 
she  reached  the  landing,  she  saw  the  Prince's  servants 
carrying  up  trunks  belonging  to  their  master  to  be 
packed.  She  felt  sick  at  heart.  She  understood  that 
this  project  had  been  discussed  and  settled  beforehand. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  all  was  over;  that  her  daughter 
was  going  away  forever,  and  that  she  would  never  see 
her  again.  She  thought  of  going  to  beseech  Serge  and 
ask  him  what  sum  he  would  take  in  exchange  for  Mi- 
cheline's  liberty ;  but  the  haughty  and  sarcastic  face  of 
the  Prince  forcibly  putting  the  bank-notes  in  her  hands, 
passed  before  her,  and  she  guessed  that  she  would  not 
obtain  anything.  Cast  down  and  despairing,  she  en- 
tered her  office  and  set  to  work. 

The  next  day,  by  the  evening  express,  the  Prince  and 
Princess  left  for  Nice  with  all  their  household,  and  the 
mansion  in  the  Rue  Saint-Dominique  remained  silent 
and  deserted. 


[182] 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A  SUDDEN  JOURNEY 

the  end  of  the  Promenade  des  Anglais, 
on  the  pleasant  road  bordered  with 
tamarind-trees,  stands,  amid  a  grove  of 
cork-oaks  and  eucalypti,  a  charming 
white  villa  with  pink  shutters.  A  Rus- 
sian lady,  the  Countess  Woreseff,  had 
it  built  five  years  ago,  and  occupied  it 
one  winter.  Then,  tired  of  the  monoto- 
nous noise  of  the  waves  beating  on  the  terrace  and 
the  brightness  of  the  calm  blue  sky,  she  longed  for  the 
mists  of  her  native  country,  and  suddenly  started  for 
St.  Petersburg,  leaving  that  charming  residence  to 
be  let. 

It  was  there,  amid  rhododendrons  and  strawberry- 
trees  in  full  bloom,  that  Micheline  and  Serge  had  taken 
up  their  abode.  Until  that  day  the  Princess  had  scarce- 
ly travelled.  Her  mother,  always  occupied  in  com- 
mercial pursuits,  had  never  left  Paris.  Micheline  had 
remained  with  her.  During  this  long  journey,  accom- 
plished in  most  luxurious  style,  she  had  behaved  like  a 
child  astonished  at  everything,  and  pleased  at  the 
least  thing.  With  her  face  close  to  the  window  she 
saw  through  the  transparent  darkness  of  a  lovely  win- 
ter's night,  villages  and  forests  gliding  past  like  phan- 
[183] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

toms.  Afar  off,  in  the  depths  of  the  country,  she  caught 
sight  of  a  light  glimmering,  and  she  loved  to  picture  a 
family  gathered  by  the  fire,  the  children  asleep  and  the 
mother  working  in  the  silence. 

Children!  She  often  thought  of  them,  and  never 
without  a  sigh  of  regret  rising  to  her  lips.  She  had 
been  married  for  some  months,  and  her  dreams  of  be- 
coming a  mother  had  not  been  realized.  How  happy 
she  would  have  been  to  have  a  baby,  with  fair  hair,  to 
fondle  and  kiss!  Then  the  idea  of  a  child  reminded  her 
of  her  own  mother.  She  thought  of  the  deep  love  one 
must  feel  for  a  child.  And  the  image  of  the  mistress, 
sad  and  alone,  in  the  large  house  of  the  Rue  Saint-Dom- 
inique, came  to  her  mind.  A  vague  remorse  seized  her 
heart.  She  felt  she  had  behaved  badly.  She  said  to 
herself:  "If,  to  punish  me,  Heaven  will  not  grant  me  a 
child!"  She  wept,  and  soon  her  grief  and  trouble  van- 
ished with  her  tears.  Sleep  overpowered  her,  and  when 
she  awoke  it  was  broad  daylight  and  they  were  in 
Provence. 

From  that  moment  everything  was  dazzling.  The 
arrival  at  Marseilles,  the  journey  along  the  coast,  the 
approach  to  Nice,  were  all  matters  of  ecstacy  to  Michel- 
ine.  But  it  was  when  the  carriage,  which  was  waiting 
for  them  at  the  railway  station,  stopped  at  the  gates  of 
the  villa,  that  she  broke  into  raptures.  She  could  not 
feast  her  eyes  enough  on  the  scene  which  was  before  her. 
The  blue  sea,  the  sky  without  a  cloud,  the  white  houses 
rising  on  the  hill  amid  the  dark  foliage,  and  in  the  dis- 
tance the  mountain-tops  covered  with  snow,  and  tinged 
with  pink  under  the  brilliant  rays  of  the  sun.  All  this 


SERGE  PANINE 

vigorous  and  slightly  wild  nature  surprised  the  Pari- 
sienne.  It  was  a  new  experience.  Dazzled  by  the  light 
and  intoxicated  with  the  perfumes,  a  sort  of  languor 
came  over  her.  She  soon  recovered  and  became  quite 
strong — something  altogether  new  for  her,  and  she  felt 
thoroughly  happy. 

The  life  of  the  Prince  and  the  Princess  became  at 
Nice  what  it  had  been  in  Paris  during  the  early  days  of 
their  marriage.  Visitors  flocked  to  their  house.  All 
that  the  colony  could  reckon  of  well-known  Parisians 
and  foreigners  of  high  repute  presented  themselves  at 
the  villa.  The  fetes  recommenced.  They  gave  recep- 
tions three  times  a  week ;  the  other  evenings  Serge  went 
to  the  Cercle. 

This  absorbing  life  had  gone  on  for  two  months.  It 
was  the  beginning  of  February,  and  already  nature  was 
assuming  a  new  appearance  under  the  influence  of 
spring.  One  evening,  three  people — two  gentlemen 
and  a  lady —  stepped  out  of  a  carriage  at  the  villa  gates, 
and  found  themselves  face  to  face  with  a  traveller  who 
had  come  on  foot.  Two  exclamations  broke  out  simul- 
taneously. 

"  Marechal ! "    "  Monsieur  Savinien ! " 

"You!  at  Nice?    And  by  what  miracle ?" 

"A  miracle  which  makes  you  travel  fifteen  leagues  an 
hour  in  exchange  for  a  hundred  and  thirty-three  francs 
first-class,  and  is  called  the  Marseilles  express!" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  my  dear  friend.  I  have  not  in- 
troduced you  to  Monsieur  and  Mademoiselle  Herzog." 

"I  have  already  had  the  honor  of  meeting  Mademoi- 
selle Herzog  at  Madame  Desvarennes's,"  said  Mar£- 


GEORGES  OHNET 

chal,  bowing  to  the  young  girl,  without  appearing  to  no- 
tice the  father. 

"  You  were  going  to  the  villa  ?  "  asked  Savinien.  "We, 
too,  were  going.  But  how  is  my  aunt  ?  When  did  you 
leave  her?" 

"I  have  not  left  her." 

"What's  that  you  say?" 

"I  say  that  she  is  here." 

Savinien  let  his  arms  drop  in  profound  consternation 
to  show  how  difficult  it  was  for  him  to  believe  what  was 
going  on.  Then,  in  a  faint  treble  voice,  he  said : 

"My  aunt!  At  Nice!  Promenade  des  Anglais! 
That's  something  more  wonderful  than  the  telephone 
and  phonograph !  If  you  had  told  me  that  the  Pantheon 
had  landed  one  fine  night  on  the  banks  of  the  Paillon, 
I  should  not  be  more  astonished.  I  thought  Madame 
Desvarennes  was  as  deeply  rooted  in  Paris  as  the  Co- 
lonne  Vendome!  But  tell  me,  what  is  the  object  of  this 
journey?" 

"A  freak." 

"Which  manifested  itself " 

"Yesterday  morning  at  breakfast.  Pierre  Delarue, 
who  is  going  to  finish  his  business  in  Algeria,  and  then 
settle  in  France,  came  to  say  'Good-by'  to  Madame 
Desvarennes.  A  letter  arrived  from  the  Princess.  She 
commenced  reading  it,  then  all  at  once  she  exclaimed : 
'Cayrol  and  his  wife  arrived  at  Nice  two  days  ago!' 
Pierre  and  I  were  astonished  at  the  tone  in  which  she 
uttered  these  words.  She  was  lost  in  thought  for  a  few 
moments,  then  she  said  to  Pierre:  'You  are  leaving  to- 
night for  Marseilles?  Well,  I  shall  go  with  you.  You 
[186] 


SERGE  PANINE 

will  accompany  me  to  Nice.'  And  turning  toward  me, 
she  added:  ' Mare"chal,  pack  up  your  portmanteau.  I 
shall  take  you  with  me.'" 

While  speaking,  they  had  walked  across  the  garden, 
and  reached  the  steps  leading  to  the  villa. 

"  Nothing  is  easier  than  to  explain  this  sudden  jour- 
ney," remarked  Mademoiselle  Herzog.  "On  learning 
that  Monsieur  and  Madame  Cayrol  were  at  Nice  with 
the  Princess,  Madame  Desvarennes  must  have  felt  how 
very  lonely  she  was  in  Paris.  She  had  a  longing  to  be 
near  them,  and  started." 

Herzog  listened  attentively,  and  seemed  to  be  seeking 
the  connection  which  should  exist  between  the  arrival 
of  the  Cayrols  and  the  departure  of  Madame  Des- 
varennes. 

"The  funniest  thing  to  me  is  Marechal  taking  a  holi- 
day," observed  Savinien.  "They  are  still  at  dinner," 
he  added,  entering  the  drawing-room,  through  the  great 
doors  of  which  sounds  of  voices  and  rattling  of  plates 
were  heard. 

"Well,  let  us  wait  for  them;  we  are  in  agreeable 
company,"  said  Herzog,  turning  toward  Marechal, 
who  only  answered  by  a  cold  bow. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  here,  Marechal?"  in- 
quired Savinien.  "You  will  be  awfully  bored." 

"Why?  Once  in  a  way  I  am  going  to  enjoy  myself 
and  be  a  swell.  You  will  teach  me,  Monsieur  Savinien. 
It  cannot  be  very  difficult.  It  is  only  necessary  to  wear 
a  dove-colored  coat  like  you,  a  gardenia  in  my  button- 
hole like  Monsieur  Le  Brede,  frizzled  hair  like  Monsieur 
du  Tremblay,  and  to  assail  the  bank  at  Monaco." 
[187! 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"Like  all  these  gentlemen,"  said  Suzanne,  gayly, 
"you  are  a  gambler  then?" 

"  I  have  never  touched  a  card." 

"But  then  you  ought  to  have  great  good  luck,"  said 
the  young  girl. 

Herzog  had  come  up  to  them. 

"Will  you  go  partners?"  he  asked  of  Marechal. 
"We  will  divide  the  winnings." 

"You  are  too  kind,"  replied  Marechal,  dryly,  turning 
away. 

He  could  not  get  used  to  Herzog' s  familiarity,  and 
there  was  something  in  the  man  which  displeased  him 
greatly.  There  was,  he  thought,  a  police-court  atmos- 
phere about  him. 

Suzanne,  on  the  contrary,  interested  him.  The  sim- 
ple, lively,  and  frank  young  girl  attracted  him,  and  he 
liked  to  talk  with  her.  On  several  occasions,  at  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes's,  he  had  been  her  partner.  There 
was  through  this  a  certain  intimacy  between  them  which 
he  could  not  extend  to  the  father. 

Herzog  had  that  faculty,  fortunately  for  him,  of  never 
appearing  offended  at  what  was  said  to  him.  He  took 
Savinien's  arm  in  a  familiar  manner  and  asked :  "Have 
you  noticed  that  the  Prince  has  looked  very  preoccu- 
pied for  the  last  few  days?" 

"I  don't  wonder  at  it,"  replied  Savinien.  "He  has 
been  very  unlucky  at  cards.  It  is  all  very  well  for  his 
wife,  my  charming  cousin,  to  be  rich,  but  if  he  is  going 
on  like  that  it  won't  last  long!" 

The  two  men  withdrew  to  the  window. 

Suzanne  went  up  to  Mar6chal.  She  had  resumed  her 
[188] 


SERGE  PANINE 

thoughtful  air.  He  saw  her  advancing,  and,  guessing 
what  she  was  going  to  say,  felt  uncomfortable  at  having 
to  tell  an  untruth  if  he  did  not  wish  to  hurt  her  feelings 
by  brutal  frankness. 

"Monsieur  Marechal,"  she  began,  "how  is  it  that 
you  are  always  so  cold  and  formal  with  my  father  ?  " 

"My  dear  young  lady,  there  is  a  great  difference  be- 
tween your  father  and  me.  I  keep  my  place,  that's  all." 

The  young  girl  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"It  is  not  that;  you  are  amiable  and  ever  friendly 
with  me — 

"You  are  a  woman,  and  the  least  politeness " 

"No!  My  father  must  have  hurt  your  feelings  un- 
wittingly; for  he  is  very  good.  I  have  asked  him,  and 
he  did  not  seem  to  understand  what  I  meant.  But  my 
questions  drew  his  attention  to  you.  He  thinks  highly 
of  you  and  would  like  to  see  you  filling  a  position  more 
in  harmony  with  your  merit.  You  know  that  Monsieur 
Cayrol  and  my  father  have  just  launched  a  tremendous 
undertaking?" 

"The' Credit  Europeen?" 

"Yes.  They  will  have  offices  in  all  the  commercial 
centres  of  European  commerce.  Would  you  like  the 
management  of  one  of  these  branches?" 

"I,  Mademoiselle?"  cried  Marechal,  astonished,  and 
already  asking  himself  what  interest  Herzog  could  have 
in  making  him  leave  the  house  of  Desvarennes. 

"The  enterprise  is  colossal,"  continued  Suzanne, 
"and  frightens  me  at  times.  Is  it  necessary  to  be  so 
rich  ?  I  would  like  my  father  to  retire  from  these  enor- 
mous speculations  into  which  he  has  thrown  himself, 
[189] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

body  and  soul.  I  have  simple  tastes.  My  father  wishes 
to  make  a  tremendous  fortune  for  me,  he  says.  All  he 
undertakes  is  for  me,  I  know.  It  seems  to  me  that  he 
runs  a  great  risk.  That  is  why  I  am  talking  to  you.  I 
am  very  superstitious,  and  I  fancy  if  you  were  with  us 
it  would  bring  us  luck." 

Suzanne,  while  speaking,  had  leaned  toward  Mare- 
chal.  Her  face  reflected  the  seriousness  of  her  thoughts. 
Her  lovely  eyes  implored.  The  young  man  asked  him- 
self how  this  charming  girl  could  belong  to  that  horrible 
Herzog. 

"Believe  me  that  I  am  deeply  touched,  Mademoi- 
selle, by  the  favor  you  have  done  me,"  said  he,  with  emo- 
tion. "I  owe  it  solely  to  your  kindness,  I  know;  but  I 
do  not  belong  to  myself.  I  am  bound  to  Madame  Des- 
varennes  by  stronger  ties  than  those  of  interest — those 
of  gratitude." 

"You  refuse?"  she  cried,  painfully. 

"I  must." 

"The  position  you  fill  is  humble." 

"I  was  very  glad  to  accept  it  at  a  time  when  my  daily 
bread  was  not  certain." 

"You  have  been  reduced,"  said  the  young  girl,  with 
trembling  voice,  "to  such " 

"Wretchedness.  Yes,  Mademoiselle,  my  outset  in 
life  was  hard.  I  am  without  relations.  Mother  Mare- 
chal,  a  kind  fruiterer  of  the  Rue  Pavee  au  Marais, 
found  me  one  morning  by  the  curbstone,  rolled  in  a 
number  of  the  Constitutionnel,  like  an  old  pair  of  boots. 
The  good  woman  took  me  home,  brought  me  up  and 
sent  me  to  college.  I  must  tell  you  that  I  was  very  sue- 
[190] 


SERGE  PANINE 

cessful  and  gained  a  scholarship.  I  won  all  the  prizes. 
Yes,  and  I  had  to  sell  my  gilt-edged  books  from  the 
Lycee  Charlemagne  in  the  days  of  distress.  I  was 
eighteen  when  my  benefactress,  Mother  Marechal,  died. 
I  was  without  help  or  succor.  I  tried  to  get  along  by 
myself.  After  ten  years  of  struggling  and  privations 
I  felt  physical  and  moral  vigor  giving  way.  I  looked 
around  me  and  saw  those  who  overcame  obstacles  were 
stronger  than  I.  I  felt  that  I  was  doomed  not  to  make 
way  in  the  world,  not  being  one  of  those  who  could  com- 
mand, so  I  resigned  myself  to  obey.  I  fill  a  humble  po- 
sition as  you  know,  but  one  which  satisfies  my  wants.  I 
am  without  ambition.  A  little  philosophical,  I  observe 
all  that  goes  on  around  me.  I  live  happily  like  Diogenes 
in  his  tub." 

"You  are  a  wise  man,"  resumed  Suzanne.  "I,  too, 
am  a  philosopher,  and  I  live  amid  surroundings  which 
do  not  please  me.  I,  unfortunately,  lost  my  mother 
when  I  was  very  young,  and  although  my  father  is  very 
kind,  he  has  been  obliged  to  neglect  me  a  little.  I  see 
around  me  people  who  are  millionaires  or  who  aspire  to 
be.  I  am  doomed  to  receive  the  attentions  of  such  men 
as  Le  Brede  and  Du  Tremblay — empty-headed  cox- 
combs, who  court  my  money,  and  to  whom  I  am  not  a 
woman,  but  a  sack  of  ducats  trimmed  with  lace." 

"These  gentlemen  are  the  modern  Argonauts.  They 
are  in  search  of  the  Golden  Fleece,"  observed  Marechal. 

"The  Argonauts!"  cried  Suzanne,  laughing.  "You 
are  right.  I  shall  never  call  them  anything  else." 

"Oh,  they  will  not  understand  you!"  said  Marechal, 
gayly.  "I  don't  think  they  know  much  of  mythology." 
[191] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"Well,  you  see  I  am  not  very  happy  in  the  bosom  of 
riches,"  continued  the  young  girl.  "Do  not  abandon 
me.  Come  and  talk  with  me  sometimes.  You  will  not 
chatter  trivialities.  It  will  be  a  change  from  the 
others." 

And,  nodding  pleasantly  to  Marechal,  Mademoiselle 
Herzog  joined  her  father,  who  was  gleaning  details 
about  the  house  of  Desvarennes  from  Savinien. 

The  secretary  remained  silent  for  a  moment. 

"Strange  girl!"  he  murmured.  "What  a  pity  she 
has  such  a  father." 

The  door  of  the  room  in  which  Monsieur  and  Made- 
moiselle Herzog,  Marechal  and  Savinien  were,  opened, 
and  Madame  Desvarennes  entered,  followed  by  her 
daughter,  Cayrol,  Serge  and  Pierre.  The  room,  at  the 
extreme  end  of  the  villa,  was  square,  surrounded  on 
three  sides  by  a  gallery  shut  in  by  glass  and  stocked  with 
greenhouse  plants.  Lofty  archways,  half  veiled  with 
draperies,  led  to  the  gallery.  This  room  had  been  the 
favorite  one  of  Countess  Woreseff .  She  had  furnished  it 
in  Oriental  style,  with  low  seats  and  large  divans,  invit- 
ing one  to  rest  and  dream  during  the  heat  of  the  day. 
In  the  centre  of  the  apartment  was  a  large  ottoman, 
the  middle  of  which  formed  a  flower-stand.  Steps  led 
down  from  the  gallery  to  the  terrace  whence  there  was 
a  most  charming  view  of  sea  and  land. 

On  seeing  his  aunt  enter,  Savinien  mshed  forward 
and  seized  both  her  hands.  Madame  Desvarennes's 
arrival  was  an  element  of  interest  in  his  unoccupied  life. 
The  dandy  guessed  at  some  mysterious  business  and 
thought  it  possible  that  he  might  get  to  know  it.  With 
[192] 


SERGE  PANINE 

open  ears  and  prying  eyes,  he  sought  the  meaning  of 
the  least  words. 

"If  you  knew,  my  dear  aunt,  how  surprised  I  am  to 
see  you  here,"  he  exclaimed  in  his  hypocritical  way. 

"Not  more  so  than  I  am  to  find  myself  here,"  said  she, 
with  a  smile.  "But,  bah!  I  have  slipped  my  traces  for 
a  week." 

"And  what  are  you  going  to  do  here?"  continued 
Savinien. 

"What  everybody  does.  By-the-bye,  what  do  they 
do?"  asked  Madame  Desvarennes,  with  vivacity. 

"That  depends,"  answered  the  Prince.  "There  are 
two  distinct  populations  here.  On  the  one  hand,  those 
who  take  care  of  themselves;  on  the  other,  those  who 
enjoy  themselves.  For  the  former  there  is  the  constitu- 
tional every  morning  in  the  sun,  with  slow  measured 
steps  on  the  Promenade  des  Anglais.  For  the  latter 
there  are  excursions,  races,  regattas.  The  first  econo- 
mize their  life  like  misers;  the  second  waste  it  like  prod- 
igals. Then  night  comes  on,  and  the  air  grows  cold. 
Those  who  take  care  of  themselves  go  home,  those 
who  amuse  themselves  go  out.  The  first  put  on  dress- 
ing-gowns; the  second  put  on  ball-dresses.  Here,  the 
house  is  quiet,  lit  up  by  a  night-light;  there,  the  rooms 
sparkle  with  light,  and  resound  with  the  noise  of  music 
and  dancing.  Here  they  cough,  there  they  laugh.  In- 
fusion on  the  one  hand,  punch  on  the  other.  In  fact, 
everywhere  and  always,  a  contrast.  Nice  is  at  once  the 
saddest  and  the  gayest  town.  One  dies  of  overenjoy- 
nient,  and  one  amuses  one's  self  at  the  risk  of  dying." 

"A  sojourn  here  is  very  dangerous,  then?" 
13  [  iQ3  ] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"Oh!  aunt,  not  so  dangerous,  nor,  above  all,  so 
amusing  as  the  Prince  says.  We  are  a  set  of  jolly  fel- 
lows, who  kill  time  between  the  dining-room  of  the 
hotel,  pigeon-shooting,  and  the  Cercle,  which  is  not  so 
very  amusing  after  all." 

"The  dining-room  is  bearable,"  said  Mar6chal,  "but 
pigeon-shooting  must  in  time  become — 

"We  put  some  interest  into  the  game." 

"How  so?" 

"Oh!  It  is  very  simple:  a  gentleman  with  a  gun  in 
his  hand  stands  before  the  boxes  which  contain  the 
pigeons.  You  say  to  me :  'I  bet  fifty  louis  that  the  bird 
will  fall.'  I  answer,  'Done.'  The  gentleman  calls  out, 
'  Pull ; '  the  box  opens,  the  pigeon  flies,  the  shot  follows. 
The  bird  falls  or  does  not  fall.  I  lose  or  win  fifty  louis." 

"Most  interesting!"  exclaimed  Mademoiselle  Her- 
zog. 

"Pshaw!"  said  Savinien  with  ironical  indifference, 
"it  takes  the  place  of  'trente  et  quarante,'  and  is  better 
than  'odd  or  even'  on  the  numbers  of  the  cabs  which 
pass." 

"And  what  do  the  pigeons  say  to  that?"  asked  Pierre, 
seriously. 

"They  are  not  consulted,"  said  Serge,  gayly. 

"Then  there  are  races  and  regattas,"  continued  Sa- 
vinien. 

"In  which  case  you  bet  on  the  horses?"  interrupted 
Marechal. 

"Or  on  the  boats." 

"In  fact,  betting  is  applied  to  all  circumstances  of 
life?" 

[i94] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"Exactly;  and  to  crown  all,  we  have  the  Cercle, 
where  we  go  in  the  evening.  Baccarat  triumphs 
there.  It  is  not  very  varied  either:  A  hundred  louis? 
Done — Five.  I  draw.  There  are  some  people  who 
draw  at  five.  Nine,  I  show  up,  I  win  or  I  lose,  and  the 
game  continues." 

"And  that  amid  the  glare  of  gas  and  the  smoke  of 
tobacco,"  said  Marechal,  "when  the  nights  are  so 
splendid  and  the  orange-trees  smell  so  sweetly.  What 
a  strange  existence!" 

"An  existence  for  idiots,  Marechal,"  sighed  Savinien, 
"that  I,  a  man  of  business,  must  submit  to,  through  my 
aunt's  domineering  ways!  You  know  now  how  men 
of  pleasure  spend  their  lives,  my  friend,  and  you  might 
write  a  substantial  resume  entitled,  'The  Fool's  Bre- 
viary.' I  am  sure  it  would  sell  well." 

Madame  Desvarennes,  who  had  heard  the  last  words, 
was  no  longer  listening.  She  was  lost  in  a  deep  reverie. 
She  was  much  altered  since  grief  and  trouble  had 
come  upon  her;  her  face  was  worn,  her  temples 
hollow,  her  chin  was  more  prominent.  Her  eyes  had 
sunk  into  her  head,  and  were  surrounded  by  dark 
rims. 

Serge,  leaning  against  the  wall  near  the  window,  was 
observing  her.  He  was  wondering  with  secret  anxiety 
what  had  brought  Madame  Desvarennes  so  suddenly 
to  his  house  after  a  separation  of  two  months,  during 
which  time  she  had  scarcely  written  to  Micheline.  Was 
the  question  of  money  to  be  resumed  ?  Since  the  morn- 
ing Madame  had  been  smiling,  calm  and  pleased  like  a 
schoolgirl  home  for  her  holidays.  This  was  the  first 
[i95] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

time  she  had  allowed  a  sad  expression  to  rest  on  her  face. 
Her  gayety  was  feigned  then. 

A  look  crossing  his  made  him  start.  Jeanne  had  just 
turned  her  eyes  toward  him.  For  a  second  they  met 
his  own.  Serge  could  not  help  shuddering.  Jeanne 
was  calling  his  attention  to  Madame  Desvarennes; 
she,  too,  was  observing  her.  Was  it  on  their  account 
she  had  come  to  Nice  ?  Had  their  secret  fallen  into  her 
hands  ?  He  resolved  to  find  out. 

Jeanne  had  turned  away  her  eyes  from  him.  He 
could  feast  his  on  her  now.  She  had  become  more  beau- 
tiful. The  tone  of  her  complexion  had  become 
warmer.  Her  figure  had  developed.  Serge  longed 
to  call  her  his  own.  For  a  moment  his  hands  trem- 
bled; his  throat  was  dry,  his  heart  seemed  to  stop 
beating. 

He  tried  to  shake  off  this  attraction,  and  walked  to 
the  centre  of  the  room.  At  the  same  time  visitors  were 
announced.  Le  Brede,  with  his  inseparable  friend,  Du 
Tremblay,  escorting  Lady  Harton,  Serge's  beautiful 
cousin,  who  had  caused  Micheline  some  anxiety  on  the 
day  of  her  marriage,  but  whom  she  no  longer  feared; 
then  the  Prince  and  Princess  Odescalchi,  Venetian  no- 
bles, followed  by  Monsieur  Clement  Souverain,  a 
young  Belgian,  starter  of  the  Nice  races,  a  great  pigeon 
shot,  and  a  mad  leader  of  cotillons. 

"Oh,  dear  me!  my  lady,  all  in  black?"  said  Mi- 
cheline, pointing  to  the  tight-fitting  black  satin  worn  by 
the  English  beauty. 

"Yes,  my  dear  Princess;  mourning,"  replied  Lady 
Harton,  with  a  vigorous  shake  of  the  hands.  "Ball- 
[196] 


SERGE  PANINE 

room  mourning — one  of  my  best  partners;  gentlemen, 
you  know  Harry  Tornwall?" 

"Countess  Alberti's  cavalier?"  added  Serge. 
"Well?" 

"Well!  he  has  just  killed  himself." 

A  concert  of  exclamations  arose  in  the  drawing- 
room,  and  the  visitors  suddenly  surrounded  her. 

"WThat!  did  you  not  know?  It  was  the  sole  topic  of 
conversation  at  Monaco  to-day.  Poor  Tornwall,  being 
completely  cleared  out,  went  during  the  night  to  the 
park  belonging  to  the  villa  occupied  by  Countess  Alberti, 
and  blew  his  brains  out  under  her  window." 

"How  dreadful!"  exclaimed  Micheline. 

"It  was  very  bad  taste  on  your  countryman's  part," 
observed  Serge. 

"The  Countess  was  furious,  and  said  that  Tornwall's 
coming  to  her  house  to  kill  himself  proved  clearly  to 
her  that  he  did  not  know  how  to  behave." 

"Do  you  wish  to  prevent  those  who  are  cleared  out 
from  blowing  out  their  brains?"  inquired  Cayrol. 
"Compel  the  pawnbrokers  of  Monaco  to  lend  a  louis 
on  all  pistols." 

"Well,"  retorted  young  Monsieur  Souverain,  "when 
the  louis  is  lost  the  players  will  still  be  able  to  hang 
themselves." 

"Yes,"  concluded  Marechal,  "then  at  any  rate  the 
rope  will  bring  luck  to  others." 

"  Gentlemen,  do  you  know  that  what  you  have  been 
relating  to  us  is  very  doleful?"  said  Suzanne  Herzog. 
"Suppose,  to  vary  our  impressions,  you  were  to  ask  us 
to  waltz?" 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"Yes,  on  the  terrace,"  said  Le  Brede,  warmly.  "A 
curtain  of  orange-trees  will  protect  us  from  the  vulgar 
gaze." 

"Oh!  Mademoiselle,  what  a  dream!"  sighed  Du 
Tremblay,  approaching  Suzanne.  "  Waltzing  with  you ! 
By  moonlight." 

"Yes,  friend  Pierrot!"  sang  Suzanne,  bursting  into  a 
laugh. 

Already  the  piano,  vigorously  attacked  by  Pierre,  de- 
sirous of  making  himself  useful  since  he  could  not  be 
agreeable,  was  heard  in  the  next  room.  Serge  had 
slowly  approached  Jeanne. 

"Will  you  do  me  the  favor  of  dancing  with  me?"  he 
asked,  softly. 

The  young  woman  started;  her  cheeks  became  pale, 
and  in  a  sharp  tone  she  answered : 

"Why  don't  you  ask  your  wife?" 

Serge  smiled. 

"You  or  nobody." 

Jeanne  raised  her  eyes  boldly,  and  looking  at  him  in 
the  face,  said,  defiantly: 

"Well,  then,  nobody!" 

And,  rising,  she  took  the  arm  of  Cayrol,  who  was  ad- 
vancing toward  her. 

The  Prince  remained  motionless  for  a  moment,  fol- 
lowing them  with  his  eyes.  Then,  seeing  his  wife  alone 
with  Madame  Desvarennes,  he  went  out  on  the  terrace. 
Already  the  couples  were  dancing  on  the  polished  mar- 
ble. Joyful  bursts  of  laughter  rose  in  the  perfumed  air 
that  sweet  March  night.  A  deep  sorrow  came  over 
Serge;  an  intense  disgust  with  all  things.  The  sea 
[198] 


SERGE  PANINE 

sparkled,  lit  up  by  the  moon.  He  had  a  mad  long- 
ing to  seize  Jeanne  in  his  arms  and  carry  her  far 
away  from  the  world,  across  that  immense  calm  space 
which  seemed  made  expressly  to  rock  sweetly  eternal 
loves. 


[i99J 


CHAPTER  XV 

MOTHER  AND   DAUGHTER 

[CHELINE  intended  following  her  hus- 
band, but  Madame  Desvarennes,  with- 
out rising,  took  hold  of  her  hand. 

"Stay  with  me  for  a  little  while,"  she 
said,  tenderly.  "We  have  scarcely  ex- 
changed ten  words  since  my  arrival. 
Come,  tell  me,  are  you  pleased  to  see 
me?" 

"How  can  you  ask  me  that?"  answered  Micheline, 
seating  herself  on  the  sofa  beside  her  mother. 

"I  ask  you  so  that  you  may  tell  me  so,"  resumed  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes,  softly.    "I  know  what  you  think, 
but  that  is  not  enough."     She  added  pleadingly: 
"Kiss  me,  will  you?" 

Micheline  threw  her  arms  round  her  mother's  neck, 

saying,  "Dear  mamma!"  which  made  tears  spring  to 

the  tortured  mother's  eyes.    She  folded  her  daughter  in 

her  arms,  and  clasped  her  as  a  miser  holds  his  treasure. 

"It  is  a  long  time  since  I  have  heard  you  speak  thus 

to  me.    Two  months !    And  I  have  been  desolate  in  that 

large  house  you  used  to  fill  alone  in  the  days  gone  by." 

The  young  wife  interrupted  her  mother,  reproachfully : 

"Oh!  mamma;  I  beg  you  to  be  reasonable." 

"To  be  reasonable?    In  other  words,  I  suppose  you 

[200] 


SERGE  PANINE 

mean  that  I  am  to  get  accustomed  to  living  without  you, 
after  having  for  twenty  years  devoted  my  life  to  you? 
Bear,  without  complaining,  that  my  happiness  should 
be  taken  away,  and  now  that  I  am  old  lead  a  life  with- 
out aim,  without  joy,  without  trouble  even,  because 
I  know  if  you  had  any  troubles  you  would  not  tell 
me!" 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  Then  Micheline,  in  a 
constrained  manner,  said : 

"What  griefs  could  I  have?" 

Madame  Desvarennes  lost  all  patience,  and  giving 
vent  to  her  feelings  exclaimed,  bitterly: 

"Those  which  your  husband  causes  you!" 

Micheline  arose  abruptly. 

"Mother!  "she  cried. 

But  the  mistress  had  commenced,  and  with  unre- 
strained bitterness,  went  on : 

"That  gentleman  has  behaved  toward  me  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  shake  my  confidence  in  him !  After  vow- 
ing that  he  would  never  separate  you  from  me,  he 
brought  you  here,  knowing  that  I  could  not  leave 
Paris." 

"You  are  unjust,"  retorted  Micheline.  "You  know 
the  doctors  ordered  me  to  go  to  Nice." 

"Pooh!  You  can  make  doctors  order  you  anything 
you  like!"  resumed  her  mother,  excitedly,  and  shaking 
her  head  disdainfully.  "Your  husband  said  to  our 
good  Doctor  Rigaud :  '  Don't  you  think  that  a  season  in 
the  South  would  do  my  wife  good?'  The  doctor  an- 
swered: 'If  it  does  not  do  her  any  good  it  certainly 
won't  do  her  any  harm.'  Then  your  husband  added: 

[201] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

'  Just  take  a  sheet  of  paper  and  write  out  a  prescription. 
You  understand  ?  It  is  for  my  mother-in-law,  who  will 
not  be  pleased  at  our  going  away.' " 

And  as  Micheline  seemed  to  doubt  what  her  mother 
was  saying,  the  latter  added : 

"The  doctor  told  me  when  I  went  to  see  him  about  it. 
I  never  had  much  faith  in  doctors,  and  now — 

Micheline  felt  she  was  on  delicate  ground,  and 
wanted  to  change  the  subject.  She  soothed  her  mother 
as  in  days  gone  by,  saying: 

"Come,  mamma;  will  you  never  be  able  to  get  used 
to  your  part  ?  Must  you  always  be  jealous  ?  You  know 
all  wives  leave  their  mothers  to  follow  their  husbands. 
It  is  the  law  of  nature.  You,  in  your  day,  remember, 
followed  your  husband,  and  your  mother  must  have 
wept." 

"Did  my  mother  love  me  as  I  love  you?"  asked  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes,  impetuously.  "I  was  brought  up 
differently.  We  had  not  time  to  love  each  other  so 
much.  We  had  to  work.  The  happiness  of  spoiling 
one's  child  is  a  privilege  of  the  rich.  For  you  there  was 
no  down  warm  enough  or  silk  soft  enough  to  line  your 
cradle.  You  have  been  petted  and  worshipped  for 
twenty  years.  Yet,  it  only  needed  a  man,  whom  you 
scarcely  knew  six  months  ago,  to  make  you  forget 
everything." 

"I  have  not  forgotten  anything,"  replied  Micheline, 
moved  by  these  passionate  expressions.  "And  in  my 
heart  you  still  hold  the  same  place." 

The  mistress  looked  at  the  young  wife,  then,  in  a  sad 
tone,  said: 

[202] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"It  is  no  longer  the  first  place." 

This  simple,  selfish  view  made  Micheline  smile. 

"It  is  just  like  you,  you  tyrant!"  she  exclaimed. 
"You  must  be  first.  Come,  be  satisfied  with  equality! 
Remember  that  you  were  first  in  the  field,  and  that  for 
twenty  years  I  have  loved  you,  while  he  has  to  make  up 
for  lost  time.  Don't  try  to  make  a  comparison  between 
my  love  for  him  and  my  affection  for  you.  Be  kind: 
instead  of  looking  black  at  him,  try  to  love  him.  I 
should  be  so  happy  to  see  you  united,  and  to  be  able, 
without  reservation,  to  think  of  you  both  with  the  same 
tenderness!" 

"Ah!  how  you  talk  me  over.  How  charming  and 
caressing  you  can  be  when  you  like.  And  how  happy 
Serge  ought  to  be  with  a  wife  like  you!  It  is  al- 
ways the  way;  men  like  him  always  get  the  best 
wives." 

"I  don't  suppose,  mamma,  you  came  all  the  way 
from  Paris  to  run  down  my  husband  to  me." 

Madame  Desvarennes  became  serious  again. 

"No;  I  came  to  defend  you." 

Micheline  looked  surprised. 

"It  is  time  for  me  to  speak.  You  are  seriously  men- 
aced," continued  the  mother. 

"In  my  love?"  asked  the  young  wife,  in  an  altered 
tone. 

"  No ;  in  your  fortune. ' ' 

Micheline  smiled  superbly. 

"If  that  be  all!" 

This  indifference  made  her  mother  positively  jump. 

"You  speak  very  coolly  about  it!  At  the  rate  your 
[203] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

husband  is  spending,  there  will  be  nothing  left  of  your 
dowry  in  six  months." 

"Well!"  said  the  Princess,  gayly,  "you  will  give  us 
another." 

Madame  Desvarennes  assumed  her  cold  business- 
like manner. 

"Ta!  ta!  ta!  Do  you  think  there  is  no  limit  to  my 
resources?  I  gave  you  four  millions  when  you  were 
married,  represented  by  fifteen  hundred  thousand 
francs,  in  good  stock,  a  house  in  the  Rue  de  Rivoli,  and 
eight  hundred  thousand  francs  which  I  prudently  kept 
in  the  business,  and  for  which  I  pay  you  interest.  The 
fifteen  hundred  thousand  francs  have  vanished.  My 
lawyer  came  to  tell  me  that  the  house  in  the  Rue  de 
Rivoli  had  been  sold  without  a  reinvestment  taking 
place." 

The  mistress  stopped.  She  had  spoken  in  that  frank, 
determined  way  of  hers  that  was  part  of  her  strength. 
She  looked  fixedly  at  Micheline,  and  asked : 

"Did  you  know  this,  my  girl?" 

The  Princess,  deeply  troubled,  because  now  it  was 
not  a  question  of  sentiment,  but  of  serious  moment,  an- 
swered, in  a  low  tone : 

"No,  mamma." 

"How  is  that  possible?"  Madame  Desvarennes  de- 
manded, hotly.  "Nothing  can  be  done  without  your 
signature." 

"I  gave  it,"  murmured  Micheline. 

"You  gave  it!"  repeated  the  mistress  in  a  tone  of 
anger.  "When?" 

"The  day  after  my  marriage." 
[204] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"Your  husband  had  the  impudence  to  ask  for  it  the 
day  after  your  marriage?" 

Micheline  smiled. 

"He  did  not  ask  for  it,  mamma,"  she  replied,  with 
sweetness;  " I  offered  it  to  him.  You  had  settled  all  on 
me." 

' '  Prudently !    With  a  fellow  like  your  husband ! ' ' 

"Your  mistrust  must  have  been  humiliating  to 
him.  I  was  ashamed  of  it.  I  said  nothing  to  you, 
because  I  knew  you  would  rather  prevent  the  mar- 
riage, and  I  loved  Serge.  I,  therefore,  signed  the 
contract  which  you  had  had  prepared.  Only  the 
next  day  I  gave  a  general  power  of  attorney  to  my 
husband." 

Madame  Desvarennes's  anger  was  over.  She  was 
observing  Micheline,  and  wished  to  find  out  the  depth 
of  the  abyss  into  which  her  daughter  had  thrown  her- 
self with  blind  confidence. 

"And  what  did  he  say  then?"  she  inquired. 

"Nothing,"  answered  Micheline,  simply.  "Tears 
came  to  his  eyes,  and  he  kissed  me.  I  saw  that  this  deli- 
cacy touched  his  heart  and  I  was  happy.  There, 
mamma,"  she  added  with  eyes  sparkling  at  the  remem- 
brance of  the  pleasure  she  had  experienced,  "he  may 
spend  as  much  as  he  likes;  I  am  amply  repaid  before- 
hand." 

Madame  Desvarennes  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and 
said: 

"My  dear  child,  you  are  mad  enough  to  be  locked  up. 
What  is  there  about  the  fellow  to  turn  every  woman's 
brain?" 

[205] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"Every  woman's?"  exclaimed  Micheline,  anxiously, 
looking  at  her  mother. 

"That  is  a  manner  of  speaking.-  But,  my  dear,  you 
must  understand  that  I  cannot  be  satisfied  with  what 
you  have  just  told  me.  A  tear  and  a  kiss!  Bah!  That 
is  not  worth  your  dowry." 

"Come,  mamma,  do  let  me  be  happy." 

"You  can  be  happy  without  committing  follies.  You 
do  not  need  a  racing-stable." 

"Oh,  he  has  chosen  such  pretty  colors,"  interrupted 
Micheline,  with  a  smile.  "Pearl-gray  and  silver,  and 
pink  cap.  It  is  charming!" 

"You  think  so ?  Well,  you  are  not  difficult  to  please. 
And  the  club?  What  do  you  say  to  his  gambling?" 

Micheline  turned  pale,  and  with  a  constraint  which 
hurt  her  mother,  said : 

"Is  it  necessary  to  make  a  fuss  about  a  few  games  at 
bouillotte?" 

This  continual  defense  of  Serge  exasperated  Madame 
Desvarennes. 

"Don't  talk  to  me,"  she  continued,  violently.  "I  am 
well  informed  on  that  subject.  He  leaves  you  alone 
every  evening  to  go  and  play  with  gentlemen  who  turn 
up  the  king  with  a  dexterity  the  Legitimists  must  envy. 
My  dear,  shall  I  tell  you  his  fortune  ?  He  commenced 
with  cards;  he  continues  with  horses;  he  will  finish 
with  worthless  women!" 

"Mamma!"  cried  Micheline,  wounded  to  the 
heart. 

"And  your  money  will  pay  the  piper!  But,  happily, 
I  am  here  to  put  your  household  matters  right.  I  am 
[206] 


SERGE  PANINE 

going  to  keep  your  gentleman  so  well  under  that  in  fu- 
ture he  will  walk  straight,  I'll  warrant  you!" 

Micheline  rose  and  stood  before  her  mother,  looking 
so  pale  that  the  latter  was  frightened. 

"Mother,"  she  said,  in  trembling  tones,  "if  ever  you 
say  one  word  to  my  husband,  take  care!  I  shall  never 
see  you  again!" 

Madame  Desvarennes  flinched  before  her  daughter. 
It  was  no  longer  the  weak  Micheline  who  trusted  to  her 
tears,  but  a  vehement  woman  ready  to  defend  him 
whom  she  loved.  And  as  she  remained  silent,  not  dar- 
ing to  speak  again : 

"Mother,"  continued  Micheline,  with  sadness,  yet 
firmly,  "this  explanation  was  inevitable;  I  have  suffered 
beforehand,  knowing  that  I  should  have  to  choose  be- 
tween my  affection  for  my  husband  and  my  respect  for 
you." 

"Between  the  one  and  the  other,"  said  the  mistress, 
bitterly,  "you  don't  hesitate,  I  see." 

"It  is  my  duty;  and  if  I  failed  in  it,  you  yourself, 
with  your  good  sense,  would  see  it." 

"Oh!  Micheline,  could  I  have  expected  to  find  you 
thus?"  cried  the  mother,  in  despair.  "What  a  change! 
It  is  not  you  who  are  speaking;  it  is  not  my  daughter. 
Fool  that  you  are !  Don't  you  see  whither  you  are  being 
led  ?  You,  yourself,  are  preparing  your  own  misfort- 
une. Don't  think  that  my  words  are  inspired  by  jeal- 
ousy. A  higher  sentiment  dictates  them,  and  at  this 
moment  my  maternal  love  gives  me,  I  fear,  a  foresight 
of  the  future.  There  is  only  just  time  to  rescue  you 
from  the  danger  into  which  you  are  running.  You  hope 
[207] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

to  retain  your  husband  by  your  generosity?  There 
where  you  think  you  are  giving  proofs  of  love  he  will 
only  see  proofs  of  weakness.  If  you  make  yourself 
cheap  he  will  count  you  as  nothing.  If  you  throw  your- 
self at  his  feet  he  will  trample  on  you." 

The  Princess  shook  her  head  haughtily,  and  smiled. 

"You  don't  know  him,  mamma.  He  is  a  gentleman; 
he  understands  all  these  delicacies,  and  there  is  more 
to  be  gained  by  submitting  one's  self  to  his  discretion, 
than  by  trying  to  resist  his  will.  You  blame  his  manner 
of  existence,  but  you  don't  understand  him.  I  know 
him.  He  belongs  to  a  different  race  than  you  and  I. 
He  needs  refinements  of  luxury  which  would  be  useless 
to  us,  but  the  deprivation  of  which  would  be  hard  to 
him.  He  suffered  much  when  he  was  poor,  he  is  mak- 
ing up  for  it  now.  We  are  guilty  of  some  extravagances, 
'tis  true;  but  what  does  it  matter?  For  whom  have 
you  made  a  fortune  ?  For  me !  For  what  object  ?  My 
happiness!  Well,  I  am  happy  to  surround  my  Prince 
with  the  glory  and  pomp  which  suits  him  so  well.  He 
is  grateful  to  me ;  he  loves  me,  and  I  hold  his  love  dearer 
than  all  else  in  the  world ;  for  if  ever  he  ceases  to  love 
me  I  shall  die!" 

"  Micheline ! "  cried  Madame  Desvarennes,  beside  her- 
self, and  seizing  her  daughter  with  nervous  strength. 

The  young  wife  quietly  allowed  her  fair  head  to  fall  on 
her  mother's  shoulder,  and  whispered  faintly  in  her  ear: 

"You  don't  want  to  wreck  my  life.  I  understand 
your  displeasure.  It  is  natural;  I  feel  it.  You  cannot 
think  otherwise  than  you  do,  being  a  simple,  hard-work- 
ing woman;  but  I  beg  of  you  to  banish  all  hatred,  and 
[208] 


SERGE  PANINE 

confine  these  ideas  within  yourself.     Say  nothing  more 
about  them  for  love  of  me!" 

The  mother  was  vanquished.  She  had  never  been 
able  to  resist  that  suppliant  voice. 

"Ah!  cruel  child,"  she  moaned,  "what  pain  you  are 
causing  me!" 

"You  consent,  don't  you,  dear  mother?"  murmured 
Micheline,  falling  into  the  arms  of  her  by  whom  she 
knew  she  was  adored. 

"I  will  do  as  you  wish,"  said  Madame  Desvarennes, 
kissing  her  daughter's  hair — that  golden  hair  which,  in 
former  days,  she  loved  to  stroke. 

The  strains  of  the  piano  sounded  on  the  terrace.  In 
the  shade,  groups  of  merry  dancers  were  enjoying  them- 
selves. Happy  voices  were  heard  approaching,  and 
Savinien,  followed  by  Marechal  and  Suzanne,  came 
briskly  up  the  steps. 

"Oh,  aunt,  it  is  not  fair,"  said  the  dandy.  "If  you 
have  come  here  to  monopolize  Micheline,  you  will  be 
sent  back  to  Paris.  We  want  a  vis-a-vis  for  a  quadrille. 
Come,  Princess,  it  is  delightfully  cool  outside,  and  I 
am  sure  you  will  enjoy  it." 

"Monsieur  Le  Brede  has  gathered  some  oranges,  and 
is  trying  to  play  at  cup  and  ball  with  them  on  his  nose, 
while  his  friend,  Monsieur  du  Tremblay,  jealous  of  his 
success,  talks  of  illuminating  the  trees  with  bowls  of 
punch,"  said  Marechal. 

"And  what  is  Serge  doing?"  inquired  Micheline, 
smiling. 

"He  is  talking  to  my  wife  on  the  terrace,"  said  Cayrol, 
appearing  in  the  gallery. 

14  [  209  ] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

The  young  people  went  off  and  were  lost  in  the  dark- 
ness. Madame  Desvarennes  looked  at  Cayrol.  He 
was  happy  and  calm.  There  was  no  trace  of  his  former 
jealousy.  During  the  six  months  which  had  elapsed 
since  his  marriage,  the  banker  had  observed  his  wife 
closely,  her  actions,  her  words:  nothing  had  escaped 
him.  He  had  never  found  her  at  fault.  Thus,  reas- 
sured, he  had  given  her  his  confidence  and  this  time  for- 
ever. Jeanne  was  adorable;  he  loved  her  more  than 
ever.  She  seemed  very  much  changed  to  him.  Her 
disposition,  formerly  somewhat  harsh,  had  softened, 
and  the  haughty,  capricious  girl  had  become  a  mild, 
demure,  and  somewhat  serious  woman.  Unable  to 
read  his  companion's  thoughts,  Cayrol  sincerely  be- 
lieved that  he  had  been  unnecessarily  anxious,  and  that 
Jeanne's  troubles  had  only  been  passing  fancies.  He 
took  credit  of  the  change  in  his  wife  to  himself,  and  was 
proud  of  it. 

"Cayrol,  oblige  me  by  removing  that  lamp;  it  hurts 
my  eyes,"  said  Madame  Desvarennes,  anxious  that  the 
traces  on  her  face,  caused  by  her  late  discussion  with 
her  daughter,  should  not  be  visible.  "Then  ask  Jeanne 
to  come  here  for  a  few  minutes.  I  have  something  to 
say  to  her." 

"Certainly,"  said  Cayrol,  taking  the  lamp  off  the 
table  and  carrying  it  into  the  adjoining  room. 

Darkness  did  Madame  Desvarennes  good.  It  re- 
freshed her  mind  and  calmed  her  brow.  The  noise  of 
dancing  reached  her.  She  commenced  thinking.  So  it 
had  vainly  tried  to  prove  to  her  that  a  life  of  immod- 
erate pleasure  was  not  conducive  to  happiness.  The 
[210] 


SERGE  PANINE 

young  wife  had  stopped  her  ears  so  that  she  might  not 
hear,  and  closed  her  eyes  that  she  might  not  see.  Her 
mother  asked  herself  if  she  did  not  exaggerate  the  evil. 
Alas!  no.  She  saw  that  she  was  not  mistaken.  Exam- 
ining the  society  around  her,  men  and  women:  every- 
where was  feverish  excitement,  dissipation,  and  nullity. 
You  might  rummage  through  their  brains  without  find- 
ing one  practical  idea;  in  all  their  hearts,  there  was  not 
one  lofty  aspiration.  These  people,  in  their  daily  life 
were  like  squirrels  in  a  cage,  and  because  they  moved, 
they  thought  they  were  progressing.  In  them  scepti- 
cism had  killed  belief;  religion,  family,  country,  were, 
as  they  phrased  it,  all  humbug.  They  had  only  one 
aim,  one  passion — to  enjoy  themselves.  Their  watch- 
word was  "pleasure."  All  those  who  did  not  perish  of 
consumption  would  die  in  lunatic  asylums. 

What  was  she  doing  in  the  midst  of  this  rottenness  ? 
She,  the  woman  of  business?  Could  she  hope  to  regen- 
erate these  poor  wretches  by  her  example?  No!  She 
could  not  teach  them  to  be  good,  and  they  excelled  in 
teaching  others  harm.  She  must  leave  this  gilded  vice, 
taking  with  her  those  she  loved,  and  leave  the  idle  and 
incompetent  to  consume  and  destroy  themselves. 

She  felt  disgusted,  and  resolved  to  do  all  to  tear  Mi- 
cheline  away  from  the  contagion.  In  the  meantime 
she  must  question  Jeanne.  A  shadow  appeared  on  the 
threshold :  it  was  hers.  In  the  darkness  of  the  gallery 
Serge  crept  behind  her  without  being  seen.  He  had 
been  watching  Jeanne,  and  seeing  her  go  away  alone, 
had  followed  her.  In  the  angle  of  the  large  bay-window, 
opening  into  the  garden,  he  waited  with  palpitating 

[211] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

heart.  Madame  Desvarennes's  voice  was  heard  in  the 
silence  of  the  drawing-room;  he  listened. 

"Sit  down,  Jeanne;  our  interview  will  be  short,  and 
it  could  not  be  delayed,  for  to-morrow  I  shall  not  be 
here." 

"You  are  leaving  so  soon?" 

"Yes;  I  only  left  Paris  on  my  daughter's  account, 
and  on  yours.  My  daughter  knows  what  I  had  to  tell 
her;  now  it  is  your  turn !  Why  did  you  come  to  Nice  ?  " 

"I  could  not  do  otherwise." 

"Because?" 

"Because  my  husband  wished  it." 

"You  ought  to  have  made  him  wish  something  else. 
Your  power  over  him  is  absolute." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  Then  Jeanne  an- 
swered : 

"I  feared  to  insist  lest  I  should  awaken  his  sus- 
picions." 

"Good!  But  admitting  that  you  came  to  Nice,  why 
accept  hospitality  in  this  house?" 

"Micheline  offered  it  to  us,"  said  Jeanne. 

"And  even  that  did  not  make  you  refuse.  What  part 
do  you  purpose  playing  here  ?  After  six  months  of  hon- 
esty, are  you  going  to  change  your  mind?" 

Serge,  behind  his  shelter,  shuddered.  Madame  Des- 
varennes's words  were  clear.  She  knew  all. 

Jeanne's  voice  was  indignant  when  she  replied: 

"By  what  right  do  you  insult  me  by  such  a  suspi- 
cion?" 

"By  the  right  which  you  have  given  me  in  not  keep- 
ing to  your  bargain.  You  ought  to  have  kept  out  of  the 
[212] 


SERGE  PANINE 

way,  and  I  find  you  here,  seeking  danger  and  already 
trying  those  flirtations  which  are  the  forerunners  of  sin, 
and  familiarizing  yourself  with  evil  before  wholly  giv- 
ing yourself  up  to  it." 

"Madame!"  cried  Jeanne,  passionately. 

"Answer!  Have  you  kept  the  promise  you  made 
me?" 

"Have  the  hopes  which  you  held  out  to  me  been  real- 
ized?" replied  Jeanne,  with  despair.  "For  six  months 
I  have  been  away,  and  have  I  found  peace  of  mind  and 
heart?  The  duty  which  you  pointed  out  to  me  as  a 
remedy  for  the  pain  which  tortured  me  I  have  fruit- 
lessly followed.  I  have  wept,  hoping  that  the  trouble 
within  me  would  be  washed  away  with  my  tears.  I 
have  prayed  to  Heaven,  and  asked  that  I  might  love  my 
husband.  But,  no!  That  man  is  as  odious  to  me  as 
ever.  Now  I  have  lost  all  my  illusions,  and  find  myself 
joined  to  him  for  the  rest  of  my  days!  I  have  to  tell  lies, 
to  wear  a  mask,  to  smile!  It  is  revolting,  and  I  suffer! 
Now  that  you  know  what  is  passing  within  me,  judge, 
and  say  whether  your  reproaches  are  not  a  useless 
cruelty." 

On  hearing  Jeanne,  Madame  Desvarennes  felt  her- 
self moved  with  deep  pity.  She  asked  herself  whether 
it  was  not  unjust  for  that  poor  child  to  suffer  so  much. 
She  had  never  done  anything  wrong,  and  her  conduct 
was  worthy  of  esteem. 

"Unhappy  woman!"  she  said. 

"Yes,  unhappy,  indeed,"  resumed  Jeanne,  "be- 
cause I  have  nothing  to  cling  to,  nothing  to  sustain  me. 
My  mind  is  afflicted  with  feverish  thoughts,  my  heart 


GEORGES  OHNET 

made  desolate  with  bitter  regrets.  My  will  alone  pro- 
tects me,  and  in  a  moment  of  weakness  it  may  betray 
me." 

"You  still  love  him?"  asked  Madame  Desvarennes, 
in  a  deep  voice  which  made  Serge  quiver. 

"Do  I  know?  There  are  times  when  I  think  I  hate 
him.  What  I  have  endured  since  I  have  been  here  is 
incredible !  Everything  galls  me,  irritates  me.  My  hus- 
band is  blind,  Micheline  unsuspicious,  and  Serge  smiles 
quietly,  as  if  he  were  preparing  some  treachery.  Jeal- 
ousy, anger,  contempt,  are  all  conflicting  within  me. 
I  feel  that  I  ought  to  go  away,  and  still  I  feel  a  horrible 
delight  in  remaining." 

"Poor  child!"  said  Madame  Desvarennes.  "I  pity 
you  from  my  soul.  Forgive  my  unjust  words;  you 
have  done  all  in  your  power.  You  have  had  momen- 
tary weaknesses  like  all  human  beings.  You  must  be 
helped,  and  may  rely  on  me.  I  will  speak  to  your  hus- 
band to-morrow;  he  shall  take  you  away.  Lacking 
happiness,  you  must  have  peace.  Go;  you  are  a  brave 
heart,  and  if  Heaven  be  just,  you  will  be  rewarded." 

Serge  heard  the  sound  of  a  kiss.  In  an  embrace,  the 
mother  had  blessed  her  adopted  daughter.  Then  the 
Prince  saw  Madame  Desvarennes  go  slowly  past  him. 
And  the  silence  was  broken  only  by  the  sobs  of  Jeanne 
who  was  half  lying  on  the  sofa  in  the  darkness. 


[214] 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  TELLTALE  KISS 

^RGE  slipped  from  his  hiding-place  and 
came  toward  Jeanne.  The  carpet  dead- 
ened the  sound  of  his  steps.  The  young 
woman  was  gazing  into  vacancy  and 
breathing  with  difficulty.  He  looked  at 
her  for  a  moment  without  speaking; 
then,  leaning  over  her  shoulder. 

"Is  it  true,  Jeanne,"  he  murmured, 
softly,  "that  you  hate  me?" 

Jeanne  arose,  bewildered,  exclaiming, 
"Serge!" 

lUYes,  Serge,"  answered  the  Prince,  "who  has  never 
ceased  to  love  you." 

A  deep  blush  spread  over  the  young  woman's  face. 
"Leave  me,"  she  said.    "Your  language  is  unworthy 
of  a  man.    I  will  not  listen  to  you." 

And  with  a  quick  step  she  walked  toward  the  gal- 
lery.   Serge  threw  himself  in  her  way,  saying: 
"You  must  stop;  you  cannot  escape  me." 
"But  this  is  madness,"  exclaimed  Jeanne,  moving 
away.    "  Do  you  forget  where  we  are  ?" 

"Do  you  forget  what  you  have  just  been  saying?" 
retorted  Serge.    "I  was  there;  I  did  not  miss  a  word." 
"If  you  heard  me,"  said  Jeanne,  "you  know  that 
[215] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

everything  separates  us.  My  duty,  yours,  and  my 
will." 

"A  will  which  is  enforced,  and  against  which  your 
heart  rebels.  A  will  to  which  I  will  not  submit." 

As  he  spoke,  Serge  advanced  toward  her,  trying  to 
seize  her  in  his  arms. 

"Take  care!"  replied  Jeanne.  "Micheline  and  my 
husband  are  there.  You  must  be  mad  to  forget  it.  If 
you  come  a  step  farther  I  shall  call  out." 

"Call,  then!"  cried  Serge,  clasping  her  in  his  arms. 

Jeanne  tried  to  free  herself  from  him,  but  could  not. 

"Serge,"  she  said,  paling  with  mingled  anguish  and 
rapture  in  the  arms  of  him  whom  she  adored,  "what 
you  are  doing  is  cowardly  and  base!" 

A  kiss  stopped  the  words  on  her  lips.  Jeanne  felt 
herself  giving  way.  She  made  a  supreme  effort. 

"I  won't,  Serge!"  she  stammered.    "Have  mercy!" 

Tears  of  shame  rolled  down  her  face. 

"No!  you  belong  to  me.  The  other,  your  husband, 
stole  you  from  me.  I  take  you  back.  I  love  you!'' 

The  young  woman  fell  on  a  seat. 

Serge  repeated, 

' '  I  love  you !    I  love  you !    I  love  you ! ' ' 

A  fearful  longing  took  possession  of  Jeanne.  She  no 
longer  pushed  away  the  arms  which  clasped  her.  She 
placed  her  hands  on  Serge's  shoulder,  and  with  a  deep 
sigh  gave  herself  up. 

A  profound   silence  reigned   around.     Suddenly  a 

sound  of  approaching  voices  roused  them,  and  at  the 

same  moment  the  heavy  curtain  which  separated  the 

room  from  the  adjoining  drawing-room  was  lifted.    A 

[216] 


SERGE  PANINE 

shadow  appeared  on  the  threshold,  as  they  were  still  in 
each  other's  arms.  The  stifled  exclamation,  "  O  God ! " 
followed  by  a  sob  of  agony,  resounded.  The  door  cur- 
tain fell,  surrounding  with  its  folds  the  unknown  wit- 
ness of  that  terrible  scene. 

Jeanne  had  risen,  trying  to  collect  her  ideas.  A 
sudden  light  dawned  on  her  mind;  she  realized  in  a 
moment  the  extent  of  her  crime,  and  uttering  a  cry  of 
horror  and  despair,  she  escaped,  followed  by  Serge, 
through  the  gallery. 

Then  the  heavy  curtain  was  lifted  again,  and  totter- 
ing, livid,  almost  dead,  Micheline  entered  the  room. 
Pierre,  serious  and  cold,  walked  behind  her.  The  Prin- 
cess, feeling  tired,  had  come  into  the  house.  Chance 
had  led  her  there  to  witness  this  proof  of  misfortune 
and  treason. 

Both  she  and  Delarue  looked  at  each  other,  silent  and 
overwhelmed.  Their  thoughts  whirled  through  their 
brains  with  fearful  rapidity.  In  a  moment  they  looked 
back  on  their  existence.  He  saw  the  pale  betrothed  of 
whom  he  had  dreamed  as  a  wife,  who  had  willingly 
given  herself  to  another,  and  who  now  found  herself  so 
cruelly  punished.  She  measured  the  distance  which 
separated  these  two  men:  the  one  good,  loyal,  generous; 
the  other  selfish,  base,  and  unworthy.  And  seeing  him 
whom  she  adored,  so  vile  and  base  compared  to  him 
whom  she  had  disdained,  Micheline  burst  into  bitter  tears. 

Pierre  tremblingly  hastened  toward  her.  The  Prin- 
cess made  a  movement  to  check  him,  but  she  saw  on  the 
face  of  her  childhood's  friend  such  sincere  grief  and 
honest  indignation,  that  she  felt  as  safe  with  him  as  if 
[217] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

he  had  really  been  her  brother.    Overcome,  she  let  her 
head  fall  on  his  shoulder,  and  wept. 

The  sound  of  approaching  footsteps  made  Micheline 
arise.  She  recognized  her  husband's  step,  and  hastily 
seizing  Pierre's  hand,  said : 

"Never  breathe  a  word;  forget  what  you  have  seen." 

Then,  with  deep  grief,  she  added : 

"If  Serge  knew  that  I  had  seen  him  unawares  he 
would  never  forgive  me!" 

Drying  her  tears,  and  still  tottering  from  the  shock, 
she  left  the  room.  Pierre  remained  alone,  quite  stunned ; 
pitying,  yet  blaming  the  poor  woman,  who,  in  her  out- 
raged love,  still  had  the  absurd  courage  to  hold  her 
tongue  and  to  resign  herself.  Anger  seized  on  him,  and 
the  more  timid  Micheline  seemed  herself,  the  more  vio- 
lent and  passionate  he  felt. 

Serge  came  back  to  the  room.  After  the  first  mo- 
ment of  excitement,  he  had  reflected,  and  wanted  to 
know  by  whom  he  had  been  observed.  Was  it  Madame 
Desvarennes,  Micheline,  or  Cayrol,  who  had  come  in? 
At  this  idea  he  trembled,  measuring  the  possible  results 
of  the  imprudence  he  had  been  guilty  of.  He  resolved 
to  face  the  difficulty  if  it  were  either  of  these  three  in- 
terested parties,  and  to  impose  silence  if  he  had  to  deal 
with  an  indifferent  person.  He  took  the  lamp  which 
Madame  Desvarennes  had  a  short  time  before  asked 
Cayrol  to  remove  and  went  into  the  room.  Pierre  was 
there  alone. 

The  two  men  measured  each  other  with  their  looks. 
Delarue  guessed  the  anxiety  of  Serge,  and  the  Prince 
understood  the  hostility  of  Pierre.    He  turned  pale. 
[218] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"It  was  you  who  came  in? "  he  asked,  boldly. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Pierre,  with  severity. 

The  Prince  hesitated  for  a  second.  He  was  evidently 
seeking  a  polite  form  to  express  his  request.  He  did 
not  find  one,  and  in  a  threatening  manner,  he  resumed : 

"You  must  hold  your  tongue,  otherwise " 

"Otherwise?"  inquired  Pierce,  aggressively. 

"What  is  the  use  of  threats?"  replied  Serge,  already 
calmed.  "Excuse  me;  I  know  that  you  will  not  tell;  if 
not  for  my  sake  at  least  for  that  of  others." 

"Yes,  for  others,"  said  Pierre,  passionately;  "for 
others  whom  you  have  basely  sacrificed,  and  who  de- 
serve all  your  respect  and  love;  for  Madame  Desva- 
rennes,  whose  high  intelligence  you  have  not  been  able 
to  understand;  for  Micheline,  whose  tender  heart  you 
have  not  been  able  to  appreciate.  Yes,  for  their  sakes  I 
will  hold  my  peace,  not  out  of  regard  for  you,  because 
you  neither  deserve  consideration  nor  esteem." 

The  Prince  advanced  a  step,  and  exclaimed : 

"Pierre!" 

Pierre  did  not  move,  and  looking  Serge  in  the  face, 
continued : 

"The  truth  is  unpleasant  to  you,  still  you  must  hear 
it.  You  act  according  to  your  fancies.  Principles  and 
morals,  to  which  all  men  submit,  are  dead  letters  to  you. 
Your  own  pleasure  above  all  things,  and  always!  That 
is  your  rule,  eh?  and  so  much  the  worse  if  ruin  and 
trouble  to  others  are  the  consequences  ?  You  only  have 
to  deal  with  two  women,  and  you  profit  by  it.  But  I 
warn  you  that  if  you  continue  to  crush  them  I  will  be 
their  defender." 

[219] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

Serge  had  listened  to  all  this  with  disdainful  impassi- 
bility, and  when  Pierre  had  finished,  he  smiled,  snapped 
his  fingers,  and  turning  toward  the  young  man : 

"My  dear  fellow,"  said  he,  "allow  me  to  tell  you  that 
I  think  you  are  very  impertinent.  You  come  here  med- 
dling with  my  affairs.  What  authority  have  you  ?  Are 
you  a  relative  ?  A  connection  ?  By  what  right  do  you 
preach  this  sermon?" 

As  he  concluded,  Serge  seated  himself  and  laughed 
with  a  careless  air. 

Pierre  answered,  gravely: 

"I  was  betrothed  to  Micheline  when  she  saw  and 
loved  you :  that  is  my  right !  I  could  have  married  her, 
but  sacrificed  my  love  to  hers:  that  is  my  authority! 
And  it  is  in  the  name  of  my  shattered  hopes  and  lost 
happiness  that  I  call  you  to  account  for  her  future 
peace." 

Serge  had  risen,  he  was  deeply  embittered  at  what 
Delarue  had  just  told  him,  and  was  trying  to  recover 
his  calmness.  Pierre,  trembling  with  emotion  and  an- 
ger, was  also  striving  to  check  their  influence. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  the  Prince,  mockingly,  "that  in 
your  claim  there  is  more  than  the  outcry  of  an  irritated 
conscience;  it  is  the  complaint  of  a  heart  that  still 
loves." 

"And  if  that  were  so?"  retorted  Pierre.  "Yes,  I 
love  her,  but  with  a  pious  love,  from  the  depth  of  my 
soul,  as  one  would  love  a  saint;  and  I  only  suffer  the 
more  to  see  her  suffering." 

Somewhat  irritated  the  Prince  exclaimed,  impatiently: 

"Oh,  don't  let  us  have  a  lyric  recitation;   let  us  be 

[220] 


SERGE  PANINE 

brief  and  clear.  What  do  you  want  ?  Explain  yourself. 
I  don't  suppose  that  you  have  addressed  this  rebuke  to 
me  solely  for  the  purpose  of  telling  me  that  you  are  in 
love  with  my  wife!" 

Pierre  disregarded  what  was  insulting  in  the  Prince's 
answer,  and  calming  himself,  by  force  of  will,  replied : 

"I  desire,  since  you  ask  me,  that  you  forget  the  folly 
and  error  of  a  moment,  and  that  you  swear  to  me  on 
your  honor  never  to  see  Madame  Cayrol  again." 

Pierre's  moderation  wounded  the  Prince  more  than 
his  rage  had  affected  him.  He  felt  petty  beside  this  de- 
voted friend,  who  only  thought  of  the  happiness  of  her 
whom  he  loved  without  hope.  His  temper  increased. 

"And  what  if  I  refuse  to  lend  myself  to  those  whims 
which  you  express  so  candidly?" 

"Then,"  said  Pierre,  resolutely,  "I  shall  remember 
that,  when  renouncing  Micheline,  I  promised  to  be  a 
brother  to  her,  and  if  you  compel  me  I  will  defend  her." 

"You  are  threatening  me,  I  think,"  cried  Serge,  be- 
side himself. 

"No!  I  warn  you." 

"Enough,"  said  the  Prince,  scarcely  able  to  com- 
mand himself.  "For  any  little  service  you  have  ren- 
dered me,  from  henceforth  we  are  quits.  Don't  think 
that  I  am  one  of  those  who  yield  to  violence.  Keep  out 
of  my  path;  it  will  be  prudent." 

' '  Listen ,  then ,  to  this.  I  am  not  one  of  those  who  shirk 
a  duty,  whatever  the  peril  be  in  accomplishing  it.  You 
know  what  price  I  put  on  Micheline's  happiness;  you 
are  responsible  for  it,  and  I  shall  oblige  you  to  respect 
it." 

[221] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

And  leaving  Serge  dumb  with  suppressed  rage,  Pierre 
went  out  on  the  terrace. 

On  the  high  road  the  sound  of  the  carriages  bearing 
away  Savinien,  Herzog  and  his  daughter,  resounded  in 
the  calm  starry  night.  In  the  villa  everything  was  quiet. 
Pierre  breathed  with  delight;  he  instinctively  turned 
his  eyes  toward  the  brilliant  sky,  and  in  the  far-off  fir- 
mament, the  star  which  he  appropriated  to  himself  long 
ago,  and  which  he  had  so  desperately  looked  for  when 
he  was  unhappy,  suddenly  appeared  bright  and  twin- 
kling. He  sighed  and  moved  on. 

The  Prince  spent  a  part  of  the  night  at  the  club;  he 
was  excessively  nervous,  and  after  alternate  losses  and 
gains,  he  retired,  carrying  off  a  goodly  sum  from  his 
opponents.  It  was  a  long  time  since  he  had  been  so 
lucky,  and  on  his  way  home  he  smiled  when  he  thought 
how  false  was  the  proverb,  "Lucky  at  play,  unlucky  in 
love."  He  thought  of  that  adorable  Jeanne  whom  he 
had  held  in  his  arms  a  few  hours  before,  and  who  had 
so  eagerly  clung  to  him.  He  understood  that  she  had 
never  ceased  to  belong  to  him.  The  image  of  Cayrol, 
self-confident  man,  happy  in  his  love,  coming  to  his 
mind,  caused  Serge  to  laugh. 

There  was  no  thought  for  Micheline;  she  had  been 
the  stepping-stone  to  fortune  for  him;  he  knew  that 
she  was  gentle  and  thought  her  not  very  discerning. 
He  could  easily  deceive  her;  with  a  few  caresses  and  a 
little  consideration  he  could  maintain  the  illusion  of 
his  love  for  her.  Madame  Desvarennes  alone  incon- 
venienced him  in  his  arrangements.  She  was  sagacious, 
and  on  several  occasions  he  had  seen  her  unveil  plots 

[222] 


SERGE  PANINE 

which  he  thought  were  well  contrived.  He  must  really 
beware  of  her.  He  had  often  noticed  in  her  voice  and 
look  an  alarming  hardness.  She  was  not  a  woman  to 
be  afraid  of  a  scandal.  On  the  contrary,  she  would  hail 
it  with  joy,  and  be  happy  to  get  rid  of  him  whom  she 
hated  with  all  her  might. 

In  spite  of  himself,  Serge  remembered  the  night  of  his 
union  to  Micheline,  when  he  had  said  to  Madame  Des- 
varennes:  "Take  my  life;  it  is  yours!"  She  had  re- 
plied seriously,  and  almost  threateningly:  "Very  well;  I 
accept  it!"  These  words  now  resounded  in  his  ears  like 
a  verdict.  He  promised  himself  to  play  a  sure  game 
with  Madame  Desvarennes.  As  to  Cayrol,  he  was  out 
of  the  question;  he  had  only  been  created  as  a  play- 
thing for  princes  such  as  Serge;  his  destiny  was  writ- 
ten on  his  forehead,  and  he  could  not  escape.  If  it  had 
not  been  Panine,  some  one  else  would  have  done  the 
same  thing  for  him.  Besides,  how  could  that  ex-cow- 
herd expect  to  keep  such  a  woman  as  Jeanne  was  to 
himself.  It  would  have  been  manifestly  unfair. 

The  Prince  found  his  valet  asleep  in  the  hall.  He 
went  quickly  to  his  bedroom,  and  slept  soundly  with- 
out remorse,  without  dreams,  until  noon.  Coming 
down  to  breakfast,  he  found  the  family  assembled. 
Savinien  had  come  to  see  his  aunt,  before  whom  he 
wanted  to  place  a  "colossal  idea."  This  time,  he  said, 
it  was  worth  a  fortune.  He  hoped  to  draw  six  thousand 
francs  from  the  mistress  who,  according  to  her  usual 
custom,  could  not  fail  to  buy  from  him  what  he  called 
his  idea. 

The  dandy  was  thoughtful;  he  was  preparing  his 
[  223  ] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

batteries.  Micheline,  pale,  and  her  eyes  red  for  want  of 
rest,  was  seated  near  the  gallery,  silently  watching  the 
sea,  on  which  were  passing,  in  the  distance,  fishing- 
smacks  with  their  sails  looking  like  white-winged  birds. 
Madame  Desvarennes  was  serious,  and  was  giving 
Marechal  instructions  respecting  her  correspondence, 
while  at  the  same  time  watching  her  daughter  out  of  the 
corner  of  her  eye.  Micheline's  depressed  manner  caused 
her  some  anxiety;  she  guessed  some  mystery.  Still  the 
young  wife's  trouble  might  be  the  result  of  last  even- 
ing's serious  interview.  But  the  sagacity  of  the  mis- 
tress guessed  a  new  incident.  Perhaps  some  scene  be- 
tween Serge  and  Micheline  in  regard  to  the  club.  She 
was  on  the  watch. 

Cayrol  and  Jeanne  had  gone  for  a  drive  to  Mentone. 
With  a  single  glance  the  Prince  took  in  the  attitude  of 
one  and  all,  and  after  a  polite  exchange  of  words  and  a 
careless  kiss  on  Micheline's  brow,  he  seated  himself  at 
table.  The  repast  was  silent.  Each  one  seemed  preoc- 
cupied. Serge  anxiously  asked  himself  whether  Pierre 
had  spoken.  Marechal,  deeply  interested  in  his  plate, 
answered  briefly,  when  addressed  by  Madame  Desva- 
rennes. All  the  guests  seemed  constrained.  It  was  a 
relief  when  they  rose  from  the  table. 

Micheline  took  her  husband's  arm  and  leading  him 
into  the  garden,  under  the  shade  of  the  magnolias,  said 
to  him: 

"My  mother  leaves  us  to-night.  She  has  received  a 
letter  recalling  her  to  Paris.  Her  journey  here  was,  you 
no  doubt  know,  on  our  account.  Our  absence  made  her 
sad,  and  she  could  no  longer  refrain  from  seeing  me,  so 

[224] 


SERGE  PANINE 

she  came.    On  her  return  to  Paris  she  will  feel  very 
lonely,  and  as  I  am  so  often  alone " 

"Micheline!"  interrupted  Serge,  with  astonishment. 

"It  is  not  a  reproach,  dear,"  continued  the  young 
wife,  sweetly.  "You  have  your  engagements.  There 
are  necessities  to  which  one  must  submit ;  you  do  what 
you  think  is  expected  of  you,  and  it  must  be  right.  Only 
grant  me  a  favor." 

"A  favor?  To  you?"  replied  Serge,  troubled  at  the 
unexpected  turn  the  interview  was  taking.  "Speak, 
dear  one;  are  you  not  at  liberty  to  do  as  you  like ?" 

"Well,"  said  Micheline,  with  a  famt  smile,  "as  you 
are  so  kindly  disposed,  promise  that  we  shall  leave  for 
Paris  this  week.  The  season  is  far  advancing.  All 
your  friends  will  have  returned.  It  will  not  be  such  a 
great  sacrifice  which  I  ask  from  you."  . 

"Willingly,"  said  Serge,  surprised  at  Micheline's  sud- 
den resolution.  "But,  admit,"  added  he,  gravely,  " that 
your  mother  has  worried  you  a  little  on  the  subject." 

"My  mother  knows  nothing  of  my  project,"  returned 
the  Princess,  coldly.  "I  did  not  care  to  say  anything 
about  it  to  her  until  I  had  your  consent.  A  refusal  on 
your  part  would  have  seemed  too  cruel.  Already,  you 
are  not  the  best  of  friends,  and  it  is  one  of  my  regrets. 
You  must  be  good  to  my  mother,  Serge ;  she  is  getting 
old,  and  we  owe  her  much  gratitude  and  love." 

Panine  remained  silent.  Could  such  a  sudden  change 
have  come  over  Micheline  in  one  day  ?  She  who  lately 
sacrificed  her  mother  for  her  husband  now  came  and 
pleaded  in  favor  of  Madame  Desvarennes.  What  had 
happened  ? 

i5  [225] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

He  promptly  decided  on  his  course  of  action. 

"All  that  you  ask  me  shall  be  religiously  fulfilled.  No 
concession  will  be  too  difficult  for  me  to  make  if  it  please 
you.  You  wish  to  return  to  Paris,  we  will  go  as  soon  as 
our  arrangements  have  been  made.  Tell  Madame  Des- 
varennes,  then,  and  let  her  see  in  our  going  a  proof  that 
I  wish  to  live  on  good  terms  with  her." 

Micheline  simply  said:  " Thank  you."  And  Serge 
having  gallantly  kissed  her  hand,  she  regained  the 
terrace. 

Left  alone,  Serge  asked  himself  the  meaning  of  the 
transformation  in  his  wife.  For  the  first  time  she  had 
shown  signs  of  taking  the  initiative.  Had  the  question 
of  money  been  raised  by  Madame  Desvarennes,  and 
was  Micheline  taking  him  back  to  Paris  in  the  hope  of 
inducing  a  change  in  his  habits  ?  They  would  see.  The 
idea  that  Micheline  had  seen  him  with  Jeanne  never 
occurred  to  him.  He  did  not  think  his  wife  capable  of 
so  much  self-control.  Loving  as  she  was,  she  could  not 
have  controlled  her  feelings,  and  would  have  made  a 
disturbance.  Therefore  he  had  no  suspicions. 

As  to  their  leaving  for  Paris  he  was  delighted  at  the 
idea.  Jeanne  and  Cayrol  were  leaving  Nice  at  the  end 
of  the  week.  Lost  in  the  vastness  of  the  capital,  the 
lovers  would  be  more  secure.  They  could  see  each  other 
at  leisure.  Serge  would  hire  a  small  house  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  and  there  they  could 
enjoy  each  other's  society  without  observation. 


[226] 


CHAPTER  XVII 

CAYROL  IS   BLIND 

[CHELINE,  on  her  return  to  Paris,  was 
a  cause  of  anxiety  to  all  her  friends. 
Morally  and  physically  she  was  changed . 
Her  former  gayety  had  disappeared .  In 
a  few  weeks  she  became  thin  and  seemed 
to  be  wasting  away.  Madame  Des- 
varennes,  deeply  troubled,  questioned 
her  daughter,  who  answered,  evasively, 
that  she  was  perfectly  well  and  had  nothing  to  trouble 
her.  The  mother  called  in  Doctor  Rigaud,  although  she 
did  not  believe  in  the  profession,  and,  after  a  long  con- 
ference, took  him  to  see  Micheline.  The  doctor  ex- 
amined her,  and  declared  it  was  nothing  but  debility. 
Madame  Desvarennes  was  assailed  with  gloomy  fore- 
bodings. She  spent  sleepless  nights,  during  which  she 
thought  her  daughter  was  dead ;  she  heard  the  funeral 
dirges  around  her  coffin.  This  strong  woman  wept, 
not  daring  to  show  her  anxiety,  and  trembling  lest 
Micheline  should  suspect  her  fears. 

Serge  was  careless  and  happy,  treating  the  apprehen- 
sions of  those  surrounding  him  with  perfect  indiffer- 
ence. He  did  not  think  his  wife  was  ill — a  little  tired 
perhaps,  or  it  might  be  change  of  climate,  nothing 
serious.  He  had  quite  fallen  into  his  old  ways,  spend- 
[227] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

ing  every  night  at  the  club,  and  a  part  of  the  day  in  a 
little  house  in  the  Avenue  Maillot,  near  the  Bois  de 
Boulogne.  He  had  found  one  charmingly  furnished, 
and  there  he  sheltered  his  guilty  happiness. 

It  was  here  that  Jeanne  came,  thickly  veiled,  since 
her  return  from  Nice.  They  each  had  a  latchkey  be- 
longing to  the  door  opening  upon  the  Bois.  The  one 
who  arrived  first  waited  for  the  other,  within  the  house, 
whose  shutters  remained  closed  to  deceive  passers-by. 
Then  the  hour  of  departure  came ;  the  hope  of  meeting 
again  did  not  lessen  their  sadness  at  parting. 

Jeanne  seldom  went  to  the  Rue  Saint-Dominique. 
The  welcome  that  Micheline  gave  her  was  the  same  as 
usual,  but  Jeanne  thought  she  discovered  a  coldness 
which  made  her  feel  uncomfortable;  and  she  did  not 
care  to  meet  her  lover's  wife,  so  she  made  her  visits  scarce. 

Cayrol  came  every  morning  to  talk  on  business  mat- 
ters with  Madame  Desvarennes.  He  had  resumed  the 
direction  of  his  banking  establishment.  The  great 
scheme  of  the  European  Credit  Company  had  been 
launched  by  Herzog,  and  promised  great  results.  Still 
Herzog  caused  Cayrol  considerable  anxiety.  Although 
a  man  of  remarkable  intelligence,  he  had  a  great  failing, 
and  by  trying  to  grasp  too  much  often  ended  by  accom- 
plishing nothing.  Scarcely  was  one  scheme  launched 
when  another  idea  occurred  to  him,  to  which  he  sacri- 
ficed the  former. 

Thus,  Herzog  was  projecting  a  still  grander  scheme 
to  be  based  on  the  European  Credit.  Cayrol,  less  san- 
guine, and  more  practical,  was  afraid  of  the  new  scheme, 
and  when  Herzog  spoke  to  him  about  it,  said  that  things 
[228] 


SERGE  PANINE 

vi  ere  well  enough  for  him  as  they  were,  and  that  he 
would  not  be  implicated  in  any  fresh  financial  venture 
however  promising. 

Cayrol's  refusal  had  vexed  Herzog.  The  German 
knew  what  opinion  he  was  held  in  by  the  public,  and 
that  without  the  prestige  of  Cayrol's  name,  and  behind 
that,  the  house  of  Desvarennes,  he  would  never  have 
been  able  to  float  the  European  Credit  as  it  had  been. 
He  was  too  cunning  not  to  know  this,  and  Cayrol  hav- 
ing declined  to  join  him,  he  looked  round  in  search  of 
a  suitable  person  to  inspire  the  shareholders  with  con- 
fidence. 

His  daughter  often  went  to  the  Rue  Saint-Domi- 
nique. Madame  Desvarennes  and  Micheline  had  taken 
a  fancy  to  her,  as  she  was  serious,  natural,  and  home- 
like. They  liked  to  see  her,  although  her  father  was  not 
congenial  to  their  taste.  Herzog  had  not  succeeded  in 
making  friends  with  the  mistress;  she  disliked  and  in- 
stinctively mistrusted  him. 

One  day  it  was  rumored  that  Suzanne  Herzog  had 
gone  in  for  an  examination  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  and 
had  gained  a  certificate.  People  thought  it  was  very 
ridiculous.  What  was  the  good  of  so  much  learning  for 
a  girl  who  would  have  such  a  large  fortune,  and  who 
would  never  know  want.  Savinien  thought  it  was  affec- 
tation and  most  laughable!  Madame  Desvarennes 
thought  it  was  most  interesting;  she  liked  workers,  and 
considered  that  the  richer  people  were,  the  more  reason 
they  had  to  work.  Herzog  had  allowed  his  daughter  to 
please  herself  and  said  nothing. 

Springtime  had  come,  and  fine  weather,  yet  Michel- 
[229] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

ine's  health  did  not  improve.  She  did  not  suffer,  but  a 
sort  of  languor  had  come  over  her.  For  days  she  never 
quitted  her  reclining-chair.  She  was  very  affectionate 
toward  her  mother,  and  seemed  to  be  making  up  for  the 
lack  of  affection  shown  during  the  first  months  of  her 
marriage. 

She  never  questioned  Serge  as  to  his  manner  of  spend- 
ing his  time,  though  she  seldom  saw  him,  except  at 
meal  hours.  Every  week  she  wrote  to  Pierre,  who  was 
buried  in  his  mines,  and  after  every  despatch  her  mother 
noticed  that  she  seemed  sadder  and  paler. 

Serge  and  Jeanne  grew  bolder.  They  felt  that  they 
were  not  watched.  The  little  house  seemed  too  small 
for  them,  and  they  longed  to  go  beyond  the  garden,  as 
the  air  of  the  Bois  was  so  sweet  and  scented  with  vio- 
lets. A  feeling  of  bravado  came  over  them,  and  they 
did  not  mind  being  seen  together.  People  would  think 
they  were  a  newly-married  couple. 

One  afternoon  they  sallied  forth,  Jeanne  wearing  a 
thick  veil,  and  trembling  at  the  risk  she  was  running, 
yet  secretly  delighted  at  going.  They  chose  the  most 
unfrequented  paths  and  solitary  nooks.  Then,  after 
an  hour's  stroll,  they  returned  briskly,  frightened  at  the 
sounds  of  carriages  rolling  in  the  distance.  They  often 
went  out  after  that,  and  chose  in  preference  the  paths 
near  the  pond  of  Madrid  where,  behind  sheltering 
shrubs,  they  sat  talking  and  listening  to  the  busy  hum 
of  Parisian  life,  seemingly  so  far  away. 

One  day,  about  four  o'clock,  Madame  Desvarennes 
was  going  to  Saint-Cloud  on  business,  and  was  crossing 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne.  Her  coachman  had  chosen  the 
[230] 


SERGE  PANINE 

most  unfrequented  paths  to  save  time.  She  had  opened 
the  carriage-window,  and  was  enjoying  the  lovely  scent 
from  the  shrubs.  Suddenly  a  watering-cart  stopped  the 
way.  Madame  Desvarennes  looked  through  the  win- 
.dow  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  and  remained  stupe- 
fied. At  the  turning  of  a  path  she  espied  Serge,  with  a 
woman  on  his  arm.  She  uttered  a  cry  that  caused  the 
couple  to  turn  round.  Seeing  that  pale  face,  they  sought 
to  hide  themselves. 

In  a  moment  Madame  Desvarennes  was  out  of  the 
carriage.  The  guilty  couple  fled  down  a  path.  With- 
out caring  what  might  be  said  of  her,  and  goaded  on  by 
a  fearful  rage,  she  tried  to  follow  them.  She  especially 
wished  to  see  the  woman  who  was  closely  veiled.  She 
guessed  her  to  be  Jeanne.  But  the  younger  woman, 
terrified,  fled  like  a  deer  down  a  side  walk.  Madame 
Desvarennes,  quite  out  of  breath,  was  obliged  to  stop. 
She  heard  the  slamming  of  a  carriage-door,  and  a  hired 
brougham  that  had  been  waiting  at  the  end  of  the  path 
swept  by  her  bearing  the  lovers  toward  the  town. 

The  mistress  hesitated  a  moment,  then  said  to  her 
coachman : 

"Drive  home."  And,  abandoning  her  business,  she 
arrived  in  the  Rue  Saint-Dominique  a  few  minutes  after 
the  Prince. 

With  a  bound,  without  going  through  the  offices, 
without  even  taking  off  her  bonnet  and  cloak,  she  went 
up  to  Serge's  apartments.  Without  hesitating,  she  en- 
tered the  smoking-room. 

Panine  was  there.  Evidently  he  was  expecting  her. 
On  seeing  Madame  Desvarennes  he  rose,  with  a  smile: 
[231! 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"One  can  see  that  you  are  at  home,"  said  he,  ironi- 
cally; "you  come  in  without  knocking." 

"No  nonsense;  the  moment  is  ill-chosen,"  briefly  re- 
torted the  mistress.  "Why  did  you  run  away  when  you 
saw  me  a  little  while  ago?" 

"You  have  such  a  singular  way  of  accosting  people," 
he  answered,  lightly.  "You  come  on  like  a  charge  of 
cavalry.  The  person  with  whom  I  was  talking  was 
frightened,  she  ran  away  and  I  followed  her." 

"She  was  doing  wrong  then  if  she  was  frightened. 
Does  she  know  me?" 

"Who  does  not  know  you?  You  are  almost  noto- 
rious— in  the  corn-market!" 

Madame  Desvarennes  allowed  the  insult  to  pass  with- 
out remark,  and  advancing  toward  Serge,  said : 

"Who  is  this  woman?" 

"Shall  I  introduce  her  to  you?"  inquired  the  Prince, 
quietly.  "She  is  one  of  my  countrywomen,  a  Po- 
lish—" 

"You  are  a  liar!"  cried  Madame  Desvarennes,  un- 
able to  control  her  temper  any  longer.  "You  are  lying 
most  impudently ! ' ' 

And  she  was  going  to  add,  "That  woman  was 
Jeanne!"  but  prudence  checked  the  sentence  on  her 
lips. 

Serge  turned  pale. 

"You  forget  yourself  strangely,  Madame,"  he  said,  in 
a  dry  tone. 

"I  forgot  myself  a  year  ago,  not  now!  It  was  when  I 
was  weak  that  I  forgot  myself.  When  Micheline  was 
between  you  and  me  I  neither  dared  to  speak  nor  act. 
[232] 


SERGE  PANINE 

But  now,  since  after  almost  ruining  my  poor  daughter, 
you  deceive  her,  I  have  no  longer  any  consideration  for 
you.  To  make  her  come  over  to  my  side  I  have  only  to 
speak  one  word." 

"Well,  speak  it!    She  is  there.    I  will  call  her!" 

Madame  Desvarennes,  in  that  supreme  moment,  was 
assailed  by  a  doubt.  What  if  Micheline,  in  her  blind 
love,  did  not  believe  her  ? 

She  raised  her  hand  to  stop  Serge. 

"Will  not  the  fear  of  killing  my  daughter  by  this  reve- 
lation stay  you?"  asked  she,  bitterly.  "What  manner 
of  man  are  you  to  have  so  little  heart  and  conscience?" 

Panine  burst  into  laughter. 

"You  see  what  your  threats  are  worth,  and  what 
value  I  place  on  them.  Spare  them  in  the  future.  You 
ask  me  what  manner  of  man  I  am  ?  I  will  tell  you.  I 
have  not  much  patience,  I  hate  to  have  my  liberty  inter- 
fered with,  and  I  have  a  horror  of  family  jars.  I  expect 
to  be  master  of  my  own  house." 

Madame  Desvarennes  was  roused  at  these  words. 
Her  rage  had  abated  on  her  daughter's  account,  but 
now  it  rose  to  a  higher  pitch. 

"Ah !  so  this  is  it,  is  it ? "  she  said.  "You  would  like 
perfect  liberty,  I  see !  You  make  such  very  good  use  of 
it.  You  don't  like  to  hear  remarks  upon  it.  It  is  more 
convenient,  in  fact!  You  wish  to  be  master  in  your 
own  house?  In  your  own  house!  But,  in  truth,  what 
are  you  here  to  put  on  airs  toward  me  ?  Scarcely  more 
than  a  servant.  A  husband  receiving  wages  from  me!" 

Serge,  with  flashing  eyes,  made  a  terrible  movement. 
He  tried  to  speak,  but  his  lips  trembled,  and  he  could 
[233] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

not  utter  a  sound.  By  a  sign  he  showed  Madame  Des- 
varennes  the  door.  The  latter  looked  resolutely  at  the 
Prince,  and  with  energy  which  nothing  could  hence- 
forth soften,  added: 

"You  will  have  to  deal  with  me  in  future!  Good- 
day!" 

And,  leaving  the  room  with  as  much  calmness  as  she 
felt  rage  when  entering  it,  she  went  down  to  the  count- 
ing-house. 

Cayrol  was  sitting  chatting  with  Marechal  in  his 
room.  He  was  telling  him  that  Herzog's  rashness 
caused  him  much  anxiety.  Marechal  did  not  encour- 
age his  confidence.  The  secretary's  opinion  on  the 
want  of  morality  on  the  part  of  the  financier  had 
strengthened.  The  good  feeling  he  entertained  toward 
the  daughter  had  not  counterbalanced  the  bad  impres- 
sion he  had  of  the  father,  and  he  warmly  advised  Cayrol 
to  break  off  all  financial  connection  with  such  a  man. 
Cayrol,  indeed,  had  now  very  little  to  do  with  the  Eu- 
ropean Credit.  The  office  was  still  at  his  banking-house, 
and  the  payments  for  shares  were  still  made  into  his 
bank,  but  as  soon  as  the  new  scheme  which  Herzog  was 
preparing  was  launched,  the  financier  intended  settling 
in  splendid  offices  which  were  being  rapidly  completed 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Opera.  Herzog  might  there- 
fore commit  all  the  follies  which  entered  his  head.  Cay- 
rol would  be  out  of  it. 

Madame  Desvarennes  entered.    At  the  first  glance, 

the  men  noticed  the  traces  of  the  emotion  she  had  just 

experienced.    They  rose  and  waited  in  silence.    When 

the  mistress  was  in  a  bad  humor  everybody  gave  way 

[234] 


SERGE  PANINE 

to  her.  It  was  the  custom.  She  nodded  to  Cayrol,  and 
walked  up  and  down  the  office,  absorbed  in  her  own 
thoughts.  Suddenly  stopping,  she  said : 

"Marechal,  prepare  Prince  Panine's  account." 

The  secretary  looked  up  amazed,  and  did  not  seem  to 
understand. 

"Well!  The  Prince  has  had  an  overdraft;  you  will 
give  me  a  statement;  that's  all!  I  wish  to  see  how  we 
two  stand." 

The  two  men,  astonished  to  hear  Madame  Desva- 
rennes  speak  of  her  son-in-law  as  she  would  of  a  cus- 
tomer, exchanged  looks. 

"You  have  lent  my  son-in-law  money,  Cayrol?" 

And  as  the  banker  remained  silent,  still  looking  at  the 
secretary,  Madame  added : 

"Does  the  presence  of  Marechal  make  you  hesitate 
in  answering  me  ?  Speak  before  him ;  I  have  told  you 
more  than  a  hundred  times  that  he  knows  my  business 
as  well  as  I  do." 

"I  have,  indeed,  advanced  some  money  to  the 
Prince,"  replied  Cayrol. 

"How  much?"  inquired  Madame  Desvarennes. 

"I  don't  remember  the  exact  amount.  I  was  happy 
to  oblige  your  son-in-law." 

"You  were  wrong,  and  have  acted  unwisely  in  not 
acquainting  me  of  the  fact.  It  is  thus  that  his  follies 
have  been  encouraged  by  obliging  friends.  At  all 
events,  I  ask  you  now  not  to  lend  him  any  more." 

Cayrol  seemed  put  out,  and,  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets  and  his  shoulders  up,  replied : 

"This  is  a  delicate  matter  which  you  ask  of  me. 
[235] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

You  will  cause  a  quarrel  between  the  Prince  and 
myself." 

"Do  you  prefer  quarrelling  with  me?"  asked  the 
mistress. 

"Zounds!  No!"  replied  the  banker.  "But  you 
place  me  in  an  embarrassing  position!  I  have  just 
promised  to  lend  Serge  a  considerable  sum  to-night." 

"Well!  you  will  not  give  it  to  him." 

"That  is  an  act  which  he  will  scarcely  forgive," 
sighed  Cayrol. 

Madame  Desvarennes  placed  her  hand  on  the  shoul- 
der of  the  banker,  and  looking  seriously  at  him, 
said: 

"You  would  not  have  forgiven  me  if  I  had  allowed 
you  to  render  him  this  service." 

A  vague  uneasiness  filled  Cayrol's  heart,  a  shadow 
seemed  to  pass  before  his  eyes,  and  in  a  troubled  voice 
he  said  to  the  mistress: 

"Why  so?" 

"Because  he  would  have  repaid  you  badly." 

Cayrol  thought  the  mistress  was  alluding  to  the 
money  he  had  already  lent,  and  his  fears  vanished. 
Madame  Desvarennes  would  surely  repay  it. 

"So  you  are  cutting  off  his  resources?"  he  asked. 

" Completely,"  answered  the  mistress.  "He  takes  too 
much  liberty,  that  young  gentleman.  He  was  wrong  to 
forget  that  I  hold  the  purse-strings.  I  don't  mind 
paying,  but  I  want  a  little  deference  shown  me  for 
my  money.  Good-by!  Cayrol,  remember  my  instruc- 
tions." 

And,  shaking  hands  with  the  banker,  Madame  Des- 
[236] 


SERGE  PANINE 

varennes  entered  her  own  office,  leaving  the  two  men 
together. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause:  Cayrol  was  the  first 
to  break  the  silence. 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  Prince's  position?" 

"His  financial  position?"  asked  Marechal. 

"Oh,  no!  I  know  all  about  that!  I  mean  his  rela- 
tion to  Madame  Desvarennes." 

"Zounds!  If  we  were  in  Venice  in  the  days  of  the 
Aqua-Toffana,  the  sbirri  and  the  bravi— 

"What  rubbish!"  interrupted  Cayrol,  shrugging  his 
shoulders. 

"Let  me  continue,"  said  the  secretary,  "and  you  can 
shrug  your  shoulders  afterward  if  you  like.  If  we  had 
been  in  Venice,  knowing  Madame  Desvarennes  as  I  do, 
it  would  not  have  been  surprising  to  me  to  have  had 
Master  Serge  found  at  the  bottom  of  the  canal  some 
fine  morning." 

"You  are  not  in  earnest,"  muttered  the  banker. 

"Much  more  so  than  you  think.  Only  you  know  we 
live  in  the  nineteenth  century,  and  we  cannot  make 
Providence  interpose  in  the  form  of  a  dagger  or  poison 
so  easily  as  in  former  days.  Arsenic  and  verdigris  are 
sometimes  used,  but  it  does  not  answer.  Scientific  peo- 
ple have  had  the  meanness  to  invent  tests  by  which 
poison  can  be  detected  even  when  there  is  none." 

"You  are  making  fun  of  me,"  said  Cayrol,  laughing. 

"I!  No.  Come,  do  you  wish  to  do  a  good  stroke  of 
business?  Find  a  man  who  will  consent  to  rid  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes  of  her  son-in-law.  If  he  succeed, 
ask  Madame  Desvarennes  for  a  million  francs.  I  will 
[237] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

pay  it  at  only  twenty-five  francs',  discount,  if  you 
like!" 

Cayrol  was  thoughtful.    Marechal  continued: 

"You  have  known  the  house  a  long  time,  how  is  it 
you  don't  understand  the  mistress  better?  I  tell  you, 
and  remember  this:  between  Madame  Desvarennes 
and  the  Prince  there  is  a  mortal  hatred.  One  of  the 
two  will  destroy  the  other.  Which?  Betting  is  open." 

"But  what  must  I  do?    The  Prince  relies  on  me  " 

"Go  and  tell  him  not  to  do  so  any  longer." 

"Faith,  no!  I  would  rather  he  came  to  my  office .  I 
should  be  more  at  ease.  Adieu,  Marechal." 

"Adieu,  Monsieur  Cayrol.  But  on  whom  will  you 
bet?" 

"Before  I  venture  I  should  like  to  know  on  whose 
side  the  Princess  is." 

"Ah,  dangler!  You  think  too  much  of  the  women! 
Some  day  you  will  be  let  in  through  that  failing  of 
yours!" 

Cayrol  smiled  conceitedly,  and  went  away.  Mare- 
chal sat  down  at  his  desk,  and  took  out  a  sheet  of  paper. 

"I  must  tell  Pierre  that  everything  is  going  on  well 
here,"  he  murmured.  "If  he  knew  what  was  taking 
place  he  would  soon  be  back,  and  might  be  guilty  of 
some  foolery  or  other."  So  he  commenced  writing. 


[238] 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  UNIVERSAL  CREDIT  COMPANY 

[E  banking-house  of  Cayrol  had  not  a 
very  imposing  appearance.  It  was  a 
narrow  two-storied  building,  the  front 
blackened  by  time.  There  was  a  car- 
riage gateway,  on  the  right-hand  side 
of  which  was  the  entrance  to  the  offices. 
The  stairs  leading  to  the  first  floor  were 
covered  by  a  well-worn  carpet.  Here 
was  a  long  corridor  into  which  the  different  offices 
opened .  On  their  glass  doors  might  be  read :  ' '  Payments 
of  dividends."  "Accounts."  "Foreign  correspond- 
ence." "General  office."  Cayrol's  own  room  was 
quite  at  the  end,  and  communicated  with  his  private 
apartments.  Everything  breathed  of  simplicity  anc 
honesty.  Cayrol  had  never  tried  to  throw  dust  intc 
people's  eyes.  He  had  started  modestly  when  opening 
the  bank;  his  business  had  increased,  but  his  habits  had 
remained  the  same.  It  was  not  a  difficult  matter  to  ob- 
tain an  interview,  even  by  people  not  known  to  him. 
They  sent  in  their  cards,  and  were  admitted  to  his 
sanctum. 

It  was  amid  the  coming  and  going  of  customers  and 
clerks  that  Prince  Panine  came  the  following  day  to  find 
Cayrol.    For  the  first  time  Serge  had  put  himself  out 
[239] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

for  the  banker.  He  was  introduced  with  marks  of  the 
most  profound  respect.  The  great  name  of  Desva- 
rennes  seemed  to  cast  a  kind  of  halo  round  his  head  in 
the  eyes  of  the  clerks. 

Cayrol,  a  little  embarrassed,  but  still  resolute,  went 
toward  him.  Serge  seemed  nervous  and  somewhat 
abrupt  in  manner.  He  foresaw  some  difficulty. 

"Well!  my  dear  fellow,"  he  said,  without  sitting 
down.  "What  are  you  up  to?  I  have  waited  since  yes- 
terday for  the  money  you  promised  me." 

Cayrol  scratched  his  ear,  and  felt  taken  aback  by 
this  plain  speaking. 

"The  fact  is—"  stammered  he. 

"Have  you  forgotten  your  engagement?"  asked 
Serge,  frowning. 

"No,"  replied  Cayrol,  speaking  slowly,  "but  I  met 
Madame  Desvarennes  yesterday." 

"And  what  had  that  to  do  with  your  intent- 
tions?" 

"Zounds!  It  had  everything  to  do  with  them.  Your 
mother-in-law  made  a  scene,  and  forbade  my  lending 
you  any  money.  You  must  understand,  my  dear 
Prince,  that  my  relations  with  Madame  Desvarennes 
are  important.  I  hold  a  great  deal  of  money  of  hers  in 
my  bank.  She  first  gave  me  a  start.  I  cannot,  without 
appearing  ungrateful,  act  contrary  to  her  will.  Place 
yourself  in  my  position,  and  judge  impartially  of  the 
terrible  alternative  between  obliging  you  and  displeas- 
ing my  benefactress." 

"Don't  cry;  it  is  useless,"  said  Serge,  with  a  scornful 
laugh.  "I  sympathize  with  your  troubles.  You  side 
[240] 


SERGE  PANINE 

with  the  money-bags.  It  remains  to  be  seen  whether 
you  will  gain  by  it." 

"My  dear  Prince,  I  swear  to  you  that  I  am  in  de- 
spair," cried  Cayrol,  annoyed  at  the  turn  the  interview 
was  taking.  "Listen;  be  reasonable!  I  don't  know 
what  you  have  done  to  your  mother-in-law,  but  she 
seems  much  vexed  with  you.  In  your  place  I  would 
rather  make  a  few  advances  than  remain  hostile  toward 
Madame  Desvarennes.  That  would  mend  matters,  you 
see.  Flies  are  not  to  be  caught  with  vinegar." 

Serge  looked  contemptuously  at  Cayrol,  and  put  on 
his  hat  with  supreme  insolence. 

"Pardon  me,  my  dear  fellow;  as  a  banker  you  are 
excellent  when  you  have  any  money  to  spare,  but  as  a 
moralist  you  are  highly  ridiculous." 

And,  turning  on  his  heel,  he  quitted  the  office,  leav- 
ing Cayrol  quite  abashed.  He  passed  along  the  corri- 
dor switching  his  cane  with  suppressed  rage.  Madame 
Desvarennes  had,  with  one  word,  dried  up  the  source 
from  which  he  had  been  drawing  most  of  the  money 
which  he  had  spent  during  the  last  three  months. 
He  had  to  pay  a  large  sum  that  evening  at  the  club, 
and  he  did  not  care  to  apply  to  the  money-lenders  of 
Paris. 

He  went  down  the  stairs  wondering  how  he  would  get 
out  of  this  scrape!  Go  to  Madame  Desvarennes  and 
humble  himself  as  Cayrol  advised?  Never!  He  re- 
gretted, for  a  moment,  the  follies  which  had  led  him 
into  this  difficulty.  He  ought  to  have  been  able  to  live 
on  two  hundred  thousand  francs  a  year!  He  had  squan- 
dered money  foolishly,  and  now  the  inexhaustible  well 
16  [  241  ] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

from  which  he  had  drawn  his  treasure  was  closed  by  an 
invincible  will. 

He  was  crossing  the  gateway,  when  a  well-known 
voice  struck  his  ear,  and  he  turned  round.  Herzog, 
smiling  in  his  enigmatical  manner,  was  before  him. 
Serge  bowed,  and  wanted  to  pass  on,  but  the  financier 
put  his  hand  on  his  arm,  saying: 

"What  a  hurry  you  are  in,  Prince.  I  suppose  your 
pocketbook  is  full  of  notes,  and  you  are  afraid  of  being 
plundered." 

And  with  his  finger,  Herzog  touched  the  silver 
mounted  pocketbook,  the  corner  of  which  was  peeping 
out  of  the  Prince's  pocket.  Panine  could  not  control  a 
gesture  of  vexation,  which  made  the  financier  smile. 

"Am  I  wrong?"  asked  Herzog.  "Can  our  friend 
Cayrol  have  refused  your  request  ?  By-the-bye,  did  you 
not  quarrel  with  Madame  Desvarennes  yesterday? 
Whoever  was  it  told  me  that?  Your  mother-in-law 
spoke  of  cutting  off  all  your  credit,  and  from  your 
downcast  look  I  guess  that  fool  Cayrol  has  obeyed  the 
orders  he  has  received." 

Serge,  exasperated  and  stamping  with  rage,  wanted 
to  speak,  but  it  was  no  easy  matter  interrupting  Her- 
zog. Besides,  there  was  something  in  the  latter's  look 
which  annoyed  Serge.  His  glance  seemed  to  be  fath- 
oming the  depths  of  Panine's  pockets,  and  the  latter  in- 
stinctively tightened  his  arms  across  his  chest,  so  that 
Herzog  might  not  see  that  his  pocketbook  was  empty. 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  asked  Serge,  at  last, 
with  a  constrained  smile. 

"About  things  which  must  greatly  interest  you,"  said 
[242] 


I 

SERGE  PANINE 

Herzog,  familiarly.  "Come,  be  sincere.  Cayrol  has 
just  refused  you  a  sum  of  money.  He's  a  simpleton! 
How  much  do  you  want?  Will  a  hundred  thousand 
francs  do  just  now?" 

And  writing  a  few  words  on  a  check,  the  financier 
handed  it  to  Serge,  adding: 

"A  man  of  your  position  should  not  be  in  any  diffi- 
culty for  such  a  paltry  sum!" 

"But,  sir,"  said  Serge,  astonished,  and  pushing  away 
Herzog' s  hand. 

"Accept  it,  and  don't  feel  indebted  to  me.  It  is 
hardly  worth  while  between  you  and  me." 

And  taking  Panine's  arm  Herzog  walked  on  with  him. 

"Your  carriage  is  there?  all  right,  mine  will  follow. 
I  want  to  talk  to  you.  Your  troubles  cannot  last.  I 
will  show  you  the  means  of  extricating  yourself  and  that 
without  delay,  my  dear  sir." 

And  without  consulting  Panine  he  seated  himself  be- 
side him  in  the  carriage. 

"I  told  you  once,  if  you  remember,"  continued  the 
financier,  "  that  I  might  prove  useful  to  you.  You  were 
haughty,  and  I  did  not  insist;  yet  you  see  the  day  has 
come.  Let  me  speak  frankly  with  you.  It  is  my  usual 
manner,  and  there  is  some  good  in  it." 

"Speak,"  answered  Serge,  rather  puzzled. 

"You  find  yourself  at  this  moment,  vulgarly  speak- 
ing, left  in  the  lurch.  Your  wants  are  many  and  your 
resources  few." 

"At  least—"  protested  Serge. 

"Good!  There  you  are  refractory,"  said  the  finan- 
cier, laughingly,  "and  I  have  not  finished.  The  day 
[243] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

after  your  marriage  you  formed  your  household  on  a 
lavish  footing;  you  gave*  splendid  receptions;  you 
bought  race-horses;  in  short,  you  went  the  pace  like  a 
great  lord.  Undoubtedly  it  costs  a  lot  of  money  to  keep 
up  such  an  establishment.  As  you  spent  without  count- 
ing the  cost,  you  confounded  the  capital  with  the  inter- 
est, so  that  at  this  moment  you  are  three  parts  ruined. 
I  don't  think  you  would  care  to  change  your  mode  of 
living,  and  it  is  too  late  in  the  day  to  cut  down  expenses 
and  exist  on  what  remains?  No.  Well,  to  keep  up 
your  present  style  you  need  at  least  a  million  francs 
every  year." 

"You  calculate  like  Cocker,"  remarked  Serge,  smil- 
ing with  some  constraint. 

"That  is  my  business,"  answered  Herzog.  "There  are 
two  ways  by  which  you  can  obtain  that  million.  The 
first  is  by  making  it  up  with  your  mother-in-law,  and 
consenting,  for  money,  to  live  under  her  dominion.  I 
know  her,  she  will  agree  to  this." 

"But,"  said  Serge,  "I  refuse  to  submit." 

"In  that  case  you  must  get  out  of  your  difficulties 
alone." 

"And  how?"  inquired  the  Prince,  with  astonishment. 

Herzog  looked  at  him  seriously. 

"By  entering  on  the  path  which  I  am  ready  to  open 
up  to  you,"  replied  Herzog,  "and  in  which  I  will  guide 
you.  By  going  in  for  business." 

Serge  returned  Herzog's  glance  and  tried  to  read  his 
face,  but  found  him  impenetrable. 

"To  go  into  business  one  needs  experience,  and  I 
have  none." 

[244] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"Mine  will  suffice,"  retorted  the  financier. 

"  Or  money,"  continued  the  Prince,  "and  I  have  none, 
either." 

"I  don't  ask  money  from  you.    I  offer  you  some." 

"What,  then,  do  I  bring  into  the  concern?" 

"The  prestige  of  your  name,  and  your  relations  with 
Madame  Desvarennes." 

The  Prince  answered,  haughtily: 

"My  relations  are  personal,  and  I  doubt  whether 
they  will  serve  you.  My  mother-in-law  is  hostile,  and 
will  do  nothing  for  me.  As  to  my  name,  it  does  not  be- 
long to  me,  it  belongs  to  those  who  bore  it  nobly  be- 
fore me." 

"Your  relations  will  serve  me,"  said  Herzog.  "I  am 
satisfied.  Your  mother-in-law  cannot  get  out  of  your 
being  her  daughter's  husband,  and  for  that  you  are 
worth  your  weight  in  gold.  As  to  your  name,  it  is  just 
because  it  has  been  nobly  borne  that  it  is  valuable. 
Thank  your  ancestors,  therefore,  and  make  the  best  of 
the  only  heritage  they  left  you.  Besides,  if  you  care  to 
examine  things  closely,  your  ancestors  will  not  have 
reason  to  tremble  in  their  graves.  What  did  they  do 
formerly?  They  imposed  taxes  on  their  vassals  and 
extorted  money  from  the  vanquished.  We  financiers  do 
the  same.  Our  vanquished  are  the  speculators;  our 
vassals  the  shareholders.  And  what  a  superiority  there 
is  about  our  proceedings!  There  is  no  violence.  We 
persuade;  we  fascinate;  and  the  money  flows  into  our 
coffers.  What  do  I  say?  They  beseech  us  to  take  it. 
We  reign  without  contest.  We  are  princes,  too — 
princes  of  finance.  We  have  founded  an  aristocracy  as 
[245] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

proud  and  as  powerful  as  the  old  one.  Feudality  of  no- 
bility no  longer  exists;  if  has  given  way  to  that  of 
money." 

Serge  laughed.    He  saw  what  Herzog  was  driving  at. 

"Your  great  barons  of  finance  are  sometimes  subject 
to  executions,"  said  he. 

"Were  not  Chalais,  Cinq-Mars,  Biron,  and  Mont- 
morency  executed?"  asked  Herzog,  with  irony. 

"That  was  on  a  scaffold,"  replied  Panine. 

"Well!  the  speculator's  scaffold  is  the  Bourse!  But 
only  small  dabblers  in  money  succumb;  the  great  ones 
are  safe  from  danger.  They  are  supported  in  their  un- 
dertakings by  such  powerful  and  numerous  interests 
that  they  cannot  fail  without  involving  public  credit; 
even  governments  are  forced  to  come  to  their  aid.  One 
of  these  powerful  and  indestructible  enterprises  I  have 
dreamed  of  grafting  on  to  the  European  Credit  Com- 
pany, the  Universal  Credit  Company.  Its  very  name  is 
a  programme  in  itself.  To  stretch  over  the  four  quarters 
of  the  globe  like  an  immense  net,  and  draw  into  its 
meshes  all  financial  speculators:  such  is  its  aim.  No- 
body will  be  able  to  withstand  us.  I  am  offering  you 
great  things,  but  I  dream  of  still  greater.  I  have  ideas. 
You  will  see  them  developed,  and  will  profit  by  them, 
if  you  join  my  fortunes.  You  are  ambitious,  Prince.  I 
guessed  it;  but  your  ambition  hitherto  has  been  satis- 
fied with  small  things — luxurious  indulgences  and  tri- 
umphs of  elegance!  What  are  these  worth  to  what  I 
can  give  you  ?  The  sphere  in  which  you  move  is  nar- 
row. I  will  make  it  immense.  You  will  no  longer  reign 
over  a  small  social  circle,  you  will  rule  a  world." 
[246] 


SERGE  PANINE 

Serge,  more  affected  than  he  cared  to  show,  tried  to 
banter. 

"Are  you  repeating  the  prologue  to  Faust?"  asked 
he.  "Where  is  your  magical  compact?  Must  I  sign 
it?" 

"Not  at  all.  Your  consent  is  sufficient.  Look  into 
the  business,  study  it  at  your  leisure,  and  measure  the 
results;  and  then  if  it  suit  you,  you  can  sign  a  deed  of 
partnership.  Then  in  a  few  years  you  may  possess  a 
fortune  surpassing  all  that  you  have  dreamed  of." 

The  financier  remained  silent.  Serge  was  weighing 
the  question.  Herzog  was  happy;  he  had  shown  him- 
self to  all  Paris  in  company  with  Madame  Desvarennes's 
son-in-law.  He  had  already  realized  one  of  his  proj- 
ects. The  carriage  was  just  passing  down  the  Champs- 
Elysees.  The  weather  was  lovely,  and  in  the  distance 
could  be  seen  the  trees  of  the  Tuileries  and  the  different 
monuments  of  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  bathed  in  blue 
mist.  Groups  of  horsemen  were  cantering  along  the 
side  avenues.  Long  files  of  carriages  were  rolling  rap- 
idly by  with  well-dressed  ladies.  The  capital  displayed 
at  that  hour  all  the  splendor  of  its  luxury.  It  was  Paris 
in  all  its  strength  and  gayety. 

Herzog  stretched  out  his  hand,  and  calling  the 
Prince's  attention  to  the  sight,  said: 

"There's  your  empire!" 

Then,  looking  at  him  earnestly,  he  asked : 

"Is  it  agreed?" 

Serge  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then  bowed  his 
head,  saying: 

"It  is  agreed." 

[247] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

Herzog  pulled  the  check-string  communicating  with 
the  coachman  and  alighted. 

"  Good-by,"  said  he  to  Panine. 

He  slipped  into  his  own  carriage,  which  had  followed 
closely  behind,  and  drove  off. 

From  that  day,  even  Jeanne  had  a  rival.  The  fever 
of  speculation  had  seized  on  Serge;  he  had  placed  his 
little  finger  within  the  wheels  and  he  must  follow — 
body,  name,  and  soul.  The  power  which  this  new  game 
exercised  over  him  was  incredible.  It  was  quite  differ- 
ent to  the  stupid  games  at  the  club,  always  the  same. 
On  the  Bourse,  everything  was  new,  unexpected,  sud- 
den, and  formidable.  The  intensity  of  the  feelings  were 
increased  a  hundredfold,  owing  to  the  importance  of 
the  sums  risked. 

It  was  really  a  splendid  sight  to  see  Herzog  manipu- 
lating matters,  manoeuvring  with  a  miraculous  dexterity 
millions  of  francs.  And  then  the  field  for  operations 
was  large.  Politics,  the  interests  of  nations,  were  the 
mainsprings  which  impelled  the  play,  and  the  game 
assumed  diplomatic  vastness  and  financial  grandeur. 

From  his  private  office  Herzog  issued  orders,  and 
whether  his  ability  was  really  extraordinary,  or  whether 
fortune  exceptionally  favored  him,  success  was  certain. 
Serge,  from  the  first  week,  realized  considerable  sums. 
This  brilliant  success  threw  him  in  a  state  of  great  ex- 
citement. He  believed  everything  that  Herzog  said  to 
him  as  if  it  were  gospel.  He  saw  the  world  bending 
under  the  yoke  which  he  was  about  to  impose  upon  it. 
People  working  and  toiling  every  day  were  doing  so  for 
him  alone,  and  like  one  of  those  kings  who  had  con- 
[248] 


SERGE  PANINE 

quered  the  world,  he  pictured  all  the  treasures  of  the 
earth  laid  at  his  feet.  From  that  time  he  lost  the  sense 
of  right  and  wrong.  He  admitted  the  unlikely,  and 
found  the  impossible  quite  natural.  He  was  a  docile 
tool  in  the  hands  of  Herzog. 

The  rumor  of  this  unforeseen  change  in  Panine's  cir- 
cumstances soon  reached  Madame  Desvarennes's  ears. 
The  mistress  was  frightened,  and  sent  for  Cayrol,  beg- 
ging him  to  remain  a  director  of  the  European  Credit, 
in  order  to  watch  the  progress  of  the  new  affair.  With 
her  practical  common  sense,  she  foresaw  disasters,  and 
even  regretted  that  Serge  had  not  confined  himself  to 
cards  and  reckless  living. 

Cayrol  was  most  uneasy,  and  made  a  confidant  of 
his  wife,  who,  deeply  troubled,  told  Panine  the  fears  his 
friends  entertained  on  his  account.  The  Prince  smiled 
disdainfully,  saying  these  fears  were  the  effect  of  plebeian 
timidity.  The  mistress  understood  nothing  of  great 
speculations,  and  Cayrol  was  a  narrow-minded  banker! 
He  knew  what  he  was  doing.  The  results  of  his  specu- 
lations were  mathematical.  So  far  they  had  not  disap- 
pointed his  hopes.  The  great  Universal  Credit  Com- 
pany, of  which  he  was  going  to  be  a  director,  would 
bring  him  in  such  an  immense  fortune  that  he  would  be 
independent  of  Madame  Desvarennes. 

Jeanne,  terrified  at  this  blind  confidence,  tried  to  per- 
suade him.  Serge  took  her  in  his  arms,  kissed  her,  and 
banished  her  fears. 

Madame  Desvarennes  had  forbidden  her  people  to 
tell  Micheline  anything  of  what  was  going  on,  as  she 
wished  her  to  remain  in  perfect  ignorance.  By  a  word, 
[249] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

the  mistress,  if  she  could  not  have  prevented  the  follies 
of  which  Serge  was  guilty,  could,  at  least,  have  spared 
herself  and  her  daughter.  It  would  have  only  been 
necessary  to  reveal  his  behavior  and  betrayal  to  Michel- 
ine,  and  to  provoke  a  separation.  If  the  house  of  Des- 
varennes  were  no  longer  security  for  Panine,  his  credit 
would  fall.  Disowned  by  his  mother-in-law,  and  pub- 
licly given  up  by  her,  he  would  be  of  no  use  to  Herzog, 
and  would  be  promptly  thrown  over  by  him.  The  mis- 
tress did  not  wish  her  daughter  to  know  the  heartrend- 
ing truth.  She  would  not  willingly  cause  her  to  shed 
tears,  and  therefore  preferred  risking  ruin. 

Micheline,  too,  tried  to  hide  her  troubles  from  her 
mother.  She  knew  too  well  that  Serge  would  have  the 
worst  of  it  if  he  got  into  her  black  books.  With  the  in- 
credible persistence  of  a  loving  heart,  she  hoped  to  win 
back  Serge.  Thus  a  terrible  misunderstanding  caused 
these  two  women  to  remain  inactive  and  silent,  when, 
by  united  efforts,  they  might,  perhaps,  have  prevented 
dangers. 

The  great  speculation  was  already  being  talked  about. 
Herzog  was  boldly  placing  his  foot  on  the  summit 
whereon  the  five  or  six  demigods,  who  ruled  the  stock 
market,  were  firmly  placed.  The  audacious  encroach- 
ments of  this  newcomer  had  vexed  these  formidable 
potentates,  and  already  they  had  decided  secretly  his 
downfall,  because  he  would  not  let  them  share  in  his 
profits. 

One  morning,  the  Parisians,  on  awakening,  found 
the  walls  placarded  with  notices  advertising  the  issue  of 
shares  in  the  Universal  Credit  Company,  and  announc- 
[250] 


SERGE  PANINE 

ing  the  names  of  the  directors,  among  which  appeared 
that  of  the  Prince.  Some  were  members  of  the  Legion 
d'Honneur;  others  recent  members  of  the  Cabinet 
Council,  and  Prefets  retired  into  private  life.  A  list  of 
names  to  dazzle  the  public,  but  all  having  a  weak  point. 

This  created  a  great  sensation  in  the  business  world. 
Madame  Desvarennes's  son-in-law  was  on  the  board. 
It  was  a  good  speculation,  then  ?  People  consulted  the 
mistress,  who  found  herself  somewhat  in  a  dilemma; 
either  she  must  disown  her  son-in-law,  or  speak  well  of 
the  affair.  Still  she  did  not  hesitate,  for  she  was  loyal 
and  honest  above  all  things.  She  declared  the  specu- 
lation was  a  poor  one,  and  did  all  she  could  to  prevent 
any  of  her  friends  becoming  shareholders. 

The  issue  of  shares  was  disastrous.  The  great  banks 
remained  hostile,  and  capitalists  were  mistrustful. 
Herzog  landed  a  few  million  francs.  Doorkeepers  and 
cooks  brought  him  their  savings.  He  covered  expenses. 
But  it  was  no  use  advertising  and  puffing  in  the  news- 
papers, as  a  word  had  gone  forth  which  paralyzed  the 
speculation.  Ugly  rumors  were  afloat.  Herzog's  Ger- 
man origin  was  made  use  of  by  the  bankers,  who  whis- 
pered that  the  aim  of  the  Universal  Credit  Company 
was  exclusively  political.  It  was  to  establish  branch 
banks  in  every  part  of  the  world  to  further  the  interests 
of  German  industry.  Further,  at  a  given  moment, 
Germany  might  have  need  of  a  loan  in  case  of  war,  and 
the  Universal  Credit  Company  would  be  there  to  sup- 
ply the  necessary  aid  to  the  great  military  nation. 

Herzog  was  not  a  man  to  be  put  down  without  re- 
sisting, and  he  made  supreme  efforts  to  float  his  under- 
[251] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

taking.  He  caused  a  number  of  unissued  shares  to  be 
sold  on  'Change,  and  had  them  bought  up  by  his  own 
men,  thus  creating  a  fictitious  interest  in  the  company. 
In  a  few  days  the  shares  rose  and  were  at  a  premium, 
simply  through  the  jobbery  to  which  Herzog  lent  him- 
self. 

Panine  was  little  disposed  to  seek  for  explanations, 
and,  besides,  had  such  unbounded  faith  in  his  partner 
that  he  suspected  nothing.  He  remained  in  perfect 
tranquillity.  He  had  increased  his  expenditure,  and 
his  household  was  on  a  royal  footing.  Micheline's 
sweetness  emboldened  him;  he  no  longer  took  the 
trouble  of  dissimulating,  and  treated  his  young  wife 
with  perfect  indifference. 

Jeanne  and  Serge  met  every  day  at  the  little  house  in 
the  Avenue  Maillot.  Cayrol  was  too  much  engaged 
with  the  new  anxieties  which  Herzog  caused  him,  to 
look  after  his  wife,  andjeft  her  quite  free  to  amuse  her- 
self. Besides,  he  had  not  the  least  suspicion.  Jeanne, 
like  all  guilty  women,  overwhelmed  him  with  kind  at- 
tentions, which  the  good  man  mistook  for  proofs  of 
love.  The  fatal  passion  was  growing  daily  stronger  in 
the  young  woman's  heart,  and  she  would  have  found  it 
impossible  to  have  given  up  her  dishonorable  happiness 
with  Panine.  She  felt  herself  capable  of  doing  any- 
thing to  preserve  her  lover. 

Jeanne  had  already  said,  "Oh!  if  we  were  but  free!" 
And  they  formed  projects.  They  would  go  away  to 
Lake  Lugano,  and,  in  a  villa  hidden  by  trees  and 
shrubs,  would  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  being  indissolubly 
united.  The  woman  was  more  eager  than  the  man  in 


SERGE  PANINE 

giving  way  to  these  visions  of  happiness.  She  some- 
times said,  "What  hinders  us  now?  Let  us  go."  But 
Serge,  prudent  and  discreet,  even  in  the  most  affection- 
ate moments,  led  Jeanne  to  take  a  more  sensible  view. 
What  was  the  use  of  a  scandal?  Did  they  not  belong 
to  each  other? 

Then  the  young  woman  reproached  him  for  not  lov- 
ing her  as  much  as  she  loved  him.  She  was  tired  of 
dissimulating;  her  husband  was  an  object  of  horror  to 
her,  and  she  had  to  tell  him  untruths  and  submit  to  his 
caresses  which  were  revolting  to  her.  Serge  calmed  her 
with  a  kiss,  and  bade  her  wait  awhile. 

Pierre,  rendered  anxious  on  hearing  that  Serge  had 
joined  Herzog  in  his  dangerous  financial  speculations, 
had  left  his  mines  and  had  just  arrived.  The  letters 
which  Micheline  addressed  to  the  friend  of  her  youth, 
her  enforced  confidant  in  trouble,  were  calm  and  re- 
signed. Full  of  pride,  she  had  carefully  hidden  from 
Pierre  the  cause  of  her  troubles.  He  was  the  last  person 
by  whom  she  would  like  to  be  pitied,  and  her  letters  had 
represented  Serge  as  repentant  and  full  of  good  feeling. 
Marechal,  for  similar  reasons,  had  kept  his  friend  in  the 
dark.  He  feared  Pierre's  interference,  and  he  wished 
to  spare  Madame  Desvarennes  the  grief  of  seeing  her 
adopted  son  quarrelling  with  her  son-in-law. 

But  the  placards  announcing  the  establishment  of  the 
Universal  Credit  Company  made  their  way  into  the 
provinces,  and  one  morning  Pierre  found  some  stuck  on 
the  walls  of  his  establishment.  Seeing  the  name  of  Pa- 
nine,  and  not  that  of  Cayrol,  Pierre  shuddered.  The 
unpleasant  ideas  which  he  experienced  formerly  when 
[253] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

Herzog  was  introduced  to  the  Desvarennes  recurred  to 
his  mind.  He  wrote  to  the  mistress  to  ask  what  was  go- 
ing on,  and  not  receiving  an  answer,  he  started  off  with- 
out hesitation  for  Paris. 

He  found  Madame  Desvarennes  in  a  terrible  state  of 
excitement.  The  shares  had  just  fallen  a  hundred  and 
twenty  francs.  A  panic  had  ensued.  The  affair  was 
considered  as  absolutely  lost,  and  the  shareholders  were 
aggravating  matters  by  wanting  to  sell  out  at  once. 

Savinien  was  just  coming  away  from  the  mistress's 
room.  He  wanted  to  see  the  downfall  of  the  Prince, 
whom  he  had  always  hated,  looking  upon  him  as  a 
usurper  of  his  own  rights  upon  the  fortune  of  the  Des- 
varennes. He  began  lamenting  to  his  aunt,  when  she 
turned  upon  him  with  unusual  harshness,  and  he  felt 
bound  as  he  said,  laughing,  to  leave  the  "funereal 
mansion." 

Cayrol,  as  much  interested  in  the  affairs  of  the  Prince 
as  if  they  were  his  own,  went  backward  and  forward 
between  the  Rue  Saint-Dominique  and  the  Rue  Tait- 
bout,  pale  and  troubled,  but  without  losing  his  head. 
He  had  already  saved  the  European  Credit  Company 
by  separating  it  six  weeks  before  from  the  Universal 
Credit  Company,  notwithstanding  Madame  Desva- 
rennes's  supplications  to  keep  them  together,  in  the 
hope  that  the  one  would  save  the  other.  But  Cayrol, 
practical,  clear,  and  implacable,  had  refused,  for  the 
first  time,  to  obey  Madame  Desvarennes.  He  acted 
with  the  resolution  of  a  captain  of  a  vessel,  who  throws 
overboard  a  portion  of  the  cargo  to  save  the  ship,  the 
crew,  and  the  rest  of  the  merchandise.  He  did  well, 
[254] 


SERGE  PANINE 

and  the  European  Credit  was  safe.  The  shares  had 
fallen  a  little,  but  a  favorable  reaction  was  already 
showing  itself.  The  name  of  Cayrol,  and  his  presence 
at  the  head  of  affairs,  had  reassured  the  public,  and  the 
shareholders  gathered  round  him,  passing  a  vote  of 
confidence. 

The  banker,  devoted  to  his  task,  next  sought  to  save 
Panine,  who  was  at  that  very  moment  robbing  him  of 
his  honor  and  happiness  in  the  house  of  the  Avenue 
Maillot. 

Pierre,  Cayrol,  and  Madame  Desvarennes  met  in 
Marechal's  private  office.  Pierre  declared  that  it  was 
imperative  to  take  strong  measures  and  to  speak  to  the 
Prince.  It  was  the  duty  of  the  mistress  to  enlighten 
Panine,  who  was  no  doubt  Herzog's  dupe. 

Madame  Desvarennes  shook  her  head  sadly.  She 
feared  that  Serge  was  not  a  dupe  but  an  accomplice. 
And  what  could  she  tell  him?  Let  him  ruin  himself! 
He  would  not  believe  her.  She  knew  how  he  received 
her  advice  and  bore  her  remonstrances. 

An  explanation  between  her  and  Serge  was  impos- 
sible, and  her  interference  would  only  hurry  him  into 
the  abyss. 

"Well,  then,  I  will  speak  to  him,"  said  Pierre,  reso- 
lutely. 

"No,"  said  Madame  Desvarennes,  "not  you!  Only 
one  here  can  tell  him  efficaciously  what  he  must  hear, 
and  that  is  Cayrol.  Let  us  above  all  things  keep  guard 
over  our  words  and  our  behavior.  On  no  account  must 
Micheline  suspect  anything." 

Thus,  at  the  most  solemn  moments,  when  fortune 
[255] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

and  honor,  perhaps,  were  compromised,  the  mother 
thought  of  her  daughter's  welfare  and  happiness. 

Cayrol  went  up  to  the  Prince's  rooms.  He  had  just 
come  in,  and  was  opening  his  letters,  while  having  a 
cigarette  in  the  smoking-room.  A  door,  covered  by 
curtains,  led  to  a  back  stair  which  opened  into  the 
courtyard.  Cayrol  had  gone  up  that  way,  feeling  sure 
that  by  so  doing  he  would  not  meet  Micheline. 

On  seeing  Jeanne's  husband,  Serge  rose  quickly. 
He  feared  that  Cayrol  had  discovered  everything,  and 
instinctively  stepped  backward.  The  banker's  manner 
soon  undeceived  him.  He  was  serious,  but  not  in  a 
rage.  He  had  evidently  come  on  business. 

" Well, my  dear  Cayrol," said  the  Prince, gayly, "what 
good  fortune  has  brought  you  here?" 

"If  it  is  fortune,  it  is  certainly  not  good  fortune,"  an- 
swered the  banker,  gravely.  "I  wish  to  have  some  talk 
with  you,  and  I  shall  be  grateful  if  you  will  listen  pa- 
tiently." 

"Oh!  oh!"  said  Serge.  "How  serious  you  are.  You 
have  some  heavy  payments  on  hand,  and  want  a  little 
help,  eh?  I  will  speak  to  Herzog." 

Cayrol  looked  at  the  Prince  in  amazement.  So  he 
did  not  suspect  anything  ?  Such  carelessness  and  neg- 
ligence frightened  him.  The  banker  resolved  to  proceed 
clearly,  and  without  beating  about  the  bush;  to  do 
away  with  such  blind  confidence  a  thunderbolt  was 
necessary. 

"I  have  not  come  about  my  business,  but  yours,"  re- 
turned Cayrol.  "The  Universal  Credit  Company  is  on 
the  eve  of  disaster;  there  is  still  time  for  you  to  withdraw 
[256] 


SERGE  PANINE 

safely  and  soundly  from  the  sinking  wreck.  I  bring  you 
the  means." 

Serge  laughed. 

"  Thank  you,  Cayrol;  you  are  very  kind,  my  friend. 
I  know  your  intentions  are  good,  but  I  don't  believe  a 
word  you  are  saying.  You  have  come  from  Madame 
Desvarennes.  You  are  both  agreed  that  I  shall  give  up 
the  Universal  Credit,  but  I  will  not  yield  to  any  pres- 
sure. I  know  what  I  am  doing.  Be  easy." 

And  quietly  lighting  another  cigarette,  he  gracefully 
puffed  the  smoke  toward  the  ceiling.  Cayrol  did  not 
trouble  to  argue,  but  took  a  newspaper  from  his  pocket 
and  handed  it  to  Panine,  simply  saying,  "Read!" 

It  was  an  article  in  a  reliable  financial  paper  prophe- 
sying the  failure  of  the  Universal  Credit  Company,  and 
basing  its  statements  on  irrefutable  calculations.  Serge 
took  the  paper  and  looked  over  it.  He  turned  pale  and 
crushed  it  in  his  hand. 

"What  infamy!"  cried  he.  "I  know  our  adversaries 
are  enraged.  Yes,  they  know  that  our  new  company  is 
destined  to  crush  them  in  the  future,  and  they  are  do- 
ing all  they  can  to  run  us  aground.  Jealousy!  Envy! 
There  is  no  other  foundation  for  these  rumors,  and  they 
are  unworthy  a  serious  man's  attention." 

"There  is  neither  envy  nor  jealousy.  All  is  true," 
said  Cayrol.  "You  will  admit  that  I  am  your  sincere 
friend?  Well,  I  swear  to  you  that  the  situation  is  ter- 
rible, and  you  must  resign  your  directorship  of  the  Uni- 
versal Credit  without  loss  of  time.  There's  not  a  mo- 
ment to  lose.  Sit  down  and  write  your  resignation." 

"Do  you  think  I  am  a  child  to  be  led  by  the  nose  like 
i7  [257] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

that?"  asked  the  Prince,  in  a  passion.  "If  you  are  sin- 
cere, Cayrol,  as  I  wish  to  believe,  I  also  think  you  are  a 
fool.  You  don't  understand !  As  to  drawing  out  of  the 
company,  never!  I  have  a  lot  of  money  invested  in  it." 

"Well,  lose  your  money,  Madame  Desvarennes  will 
pay  you  back.  At  least  you  can  save  your  name." 

"Ah,  I  see  you  are  conniving  with  her!"  exclaimed 
the  Prince,  loudly.  "Don't  tell  me  another  word,  I 
don't  believe  you.  I  shall  go  straight  to  the  office,  and 
I  will  speak  to  Herzog.  We  will  take  measures  to 
prosecute  the  papers  for  libel  if  they  dare  to  publish 
these  untruths." 

Cayrol  saw  that  nothing  would  convince  Panine.  He 
hoped  that  an  interview  with  Herzog  would  enlighten 
him.  He  left  the  matter  to  chance,  as  reasoning  was  of 
no  avail,  and  went  down  to  the  mistress. 

Serge  drove  to  the  Universal  Credit  Company.  It  was 
the  first  day  in  the  new  offices.  Herzog  had  furnished 
them  splendidly,  thinking  that  this  would  give  the  share- 
holders a  high  opinion  of  the  undertaking.  How  could 
they  have  any  doubts  when  they  saw  such  splendid  fur- 
niture and  large  offices?  How  could  they  refuse  to 
place  their  money  in  the  hands  of  speculators  that  could 
cover  their  floors  with  such  soft  carpets  ?  The  porters, 
with  their  dark  blue  and  red  cloth  liveries,  and  buttons 
with  the  company's  monogram  on  them,  answered  in- 
quiries with  haughty  condescension.  Everything  fore- 
told success.  It  was  in  the  air.  You  could  hear  the 
cashier  shovelling  heaps  of  gold.  The  people  who  had 
placed  the  Universal  Credit  Company  on  such  a  footing 
were  either  very  powerful  or  very  impudent. 
[258] 


SERGE  PANINE 

Serge  walked  in,  as  he  would  have  done  at  home,  with 
his  hat  on,  amid  a  number  of  small  shareholders,  who 
had  come  full  of  anxiety  after  reading  the  accounts  in  the 
newspapers,  and  who  felt  full  of  confidence  after  seeing 
the  splendor  of  the  place.  Panine  reached  Herzog's 
office,  but  when  about  to  open  the  door,  loud  voices 
struck  his  ear.  The  financier  was  arguing  with  a  di- 
rector, and  Panine  listened. 

"The  speculation  is  safe  and  sure,"  Herzog  was  say- 
ing. "The  shares  are  low,  I  know,  because  I  have 
ceased  to  keep  them  up.  I  have  given  orders  in  Lon- 
don, Vienna,  and  Berlin,  and  we  are  buying  up  all 
shares  that  are  offered  in  the  market.  I  shall  then  run 
the  shares  up  again,  and  we  shall  realize  an  enormous 
sum.  It  is  most  simple." 

"But  it  is  shady,"  said  the  other  voice. 

"Why?  I  defend  myself  as  I  am  attacked.  The 
great  banks  seek  to  deteriorate  my  stock.  I  buy  in,  and 
take  it  out  of  my  adversaries.  Is  it  not  just  and  law- 
ful?" 

Panine  breathed  freely  and  felt  reassured.  The  de- 
preciation was  caused  by  Herzog;  he  had  just  said  so. 
There  was  nothing  to  fear  then.  It  was  just  a  trick  of 
Herzog's,  and  the  company  would  come  out  brighter 
than  ever. 

Serge  went  in. 

"Oh!  here's  Prince  Panine,"  said  Herzog.  "Ask 
him  what  he  thinks  of  the  matter.  I  defer  to  his  judg- 
ment" 

"I  don't  want  to  know  anything,"  said  Serge.  "I 
have  full  confidence  in  you,  my  dear  manager,  and  our 
[259] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

business  will  prosper  in  your  hands,  I  am  sure.  Be- 
sides, I  know  the  manoeuvres  of  our  opponents,  and  I 
think  every  financial  means  justifiable  to  answer  them." 

"Ah!  What  did  I  say  to  you  a  few  minutes  ago?" 
cried  Herzog,  addressing  his  questioner  in  a  tone  of 
triumph.  "Let  me  act  and  you  will  see.  Besides,  I 
don't  want  to  keep  you  against  your  will,"  he  added, 
harshly.  "You  are  at  liberty  to  withdraw  from  us  if 
you  like." 

The  other  protested  that  what  he  had  said  was  for 
the  best  interests  of  all  concerned.  He  did  not  dream 
of  leaving  the  company;  on  the  contrary,  they  might 
rely  on  him.  He  appreciated  the  experience  and  abil- 
ity of  Herzog  too  well  to  separate  his  fortune  from  his 
friend's.  And,  shaking  hands  with  the  financier,  he 
took  his  leave. 

"  Come !  What  is  all  this  clamor  in  the  newspapers  ?  " 
asked  Serge,  when  he  found  himself  alone  with  Herzog. 
"Do  you  know  that  the  articles  published  are  very  per- 
fidious?" 

"All  the  more  perfidious  because  they  are  founded 
on  truth,"  said  the  financier,  coldly. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  cried  Serge,  in  alarm. 

"The  truth.  Do  you  think  I  am  to  tell  you  lies  as  I 
did  to  that  idiot  who  has  just  gone  out  ?  The  Universal 
Credit  has  at  this  moment  a  screw  loose.  But  patience ! 
I  have  an  idea,  and  in  a  fortnight  the  shares  will  have 
doubled  in  value.  I  have  a  splendid  scheme  in  hand 
which  will  kill  the  gas  companies.  It  is  a  plan  for  light- 
ing by  magnesium.  Its  effect  will  be  startling.  I  shall 
publish  sensational  articles  describing  the  invention  in 
[260] 


SERGE  PANINE 

the  London  and  Brussels  papers.  Gas  shares  will  fall 
very  low.  I  shall  buy  up  all  I  can,  and  when  I  am  mas- 
ter of  the  situation,  I  shall  announce  that  the  threatened 
gas  companies  are  buying  up  the  invention.  Shares 
will  rise  again,  and  I  shall  realize  a  goodly  sum,  which 
will  be  for  the  benefit  of  the  Universal  Credit." 

"But  for  such  a  formidable  speculation  foreign 
agents  will  require  security?" 

"I  will  offer  it  to  them.  I  have  here  ten  million 
francs'  worth  of  shares  in  the  European  Credit  belong- 
ing to  Cayrol.  We  will  give  the  cashier  a  joint  receipt 
for  them.  The  speculation  will  last  three  days.  It  is 
safe,  and  when  the  result  is  achieved  we  will  replace  the 
shares,  and  take  back  the  receipt." 

"But,"  asked  Serge,  "is  this  plan  of  taking  the 
shares  which  don't  belong  to  us  legal?" 

"  It  is  a  transfer,"  said  Herzog,  with  simplicity.  "  Be- 
sides, don't  forget  that  we  have  to  do  with  Cayrol,  that 
is  to  say  with  a  partner." 

"Suppose  we  tell  him  of  it,"  insisted  the  Prince. 

"No!  The  deuce!  We  should  have  to  explain  every- 
thing to  him.  He  knows  what's  what,  and  would  find 
the  idea  too  good,  and  want  a  share  of  the  spoil.  No! 
Sign  that,  and  don't  be  alarmed.  The  sheep  will  be 
back  in  the  fold  before  the  shepherd  comes  to  count 
them." 

A  dark  presentiment  crossed  Serge's  mind,  and  he 
was  afraid.  At  that  moment,  when  his  fate  was  being 
decided,  he  hesitated  to  go  deeper  into  the  rut  where  he 
had  already  been  walking  too  long.  He  stood  silent 
and  undecided.  Confused  thoughts  crowded  his  brain; 
[261] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

his  temples  throbbed,  and  a  buzzing  noise  sounded  in 
his  ears.  But  the  thought  of  giving  up  his  liberty,  and 
again  subjecting  himself  to  Madame  Desvarennes's 
protection  was  like  the  lash  of  a  whip,  and  he  blushed 
for  having  hesitated. 

Herzog  looked  at  him,  and,  smiling  in  a  constrained 
way,  said: 

"You,  too,  may  give  up  the  affair  if  you  like.  If  I 
share  it  with  you  it  is  because  you  are  so  closely  allied 
to  me.  I  don't  so  very  much  care  to  cut  the  pear  in  two. 
Don't  think  that  I  am  begging  of  you  to  be  my  partner! 
Do  as  you  like." 

Serge  caught  hold  of  the  paper  and,  having  signed  it, 
handed  it  to  the  financier. 

"  All  right,"  said  Herzog.  "  I  shall  leave  to-night  and 
be  absent  three  days.  Watch  the  money  market.  You 
will  see  the  results  of  my  calculations." 

And  shaking  hands  with  the  Prince,  Herzog  went  to 
the  cashier  to  get  the  scrip  and  deposit  the  receipt. 


[262] 


CHAPTER  XIX 

SIN  GROWS  BOLDER 

[ERE  was  a  party  at  CayroPs.  In  the 
drawing-rooms  of  the  mansion  in  the 
Rue  Taitbout  everything  was  resplen- 
dent with  lights,  and  there  was  quite 
a  profusion  of  flowers.  Cayrol  had 
thought  of  postponing  the  party,  but 
was  afraid  of  rousing  anxieties,  and 
like  an  actor  who,  though  he  has  just 
lost  his  father,  must  play  the  following  day,  so  Cayrol 
gave  his  party  and  showed  a  smiling  face,  so  as  to 
prevent  harm  to  his  business. 

Matters  had  taken  a  turn  for  the  worse  during  the  last 
three  days.  The  bold  stroke,  to  carry  out  which  Her- 
zog  had  gone  to  London  so  as  to  be  more  secret,  had 
been  got  wind  of.  The  fall  of  the  shares  had  not  taken 
place.  Working  with  considerable  sums  of  money,  the 
loss  on  the  difference  was  as  great  as  the  gains  would 
have  been.  The  shares  belonging  to  the  European 
Credit  Company  had  defrayed  the  cost  of  the  game.  It 
was  a  disaster.  Cayrol,  in  his  anxiety,  had  applied  for 
the  scrip  and  had  only  found  the  receipt  given  to  the 
cashier.  Although  the  transaction  was  most  irregular, 
Cayrol  had  not  said  anything;  but,  utterly  cast  down, 
had  gone  to  Madame  Desvarennes  to  tell  her  of  the  fact. 
[263] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

The  Prince  was  in  bed,  pretending  to  be  ill.  His 
wife,  happily  ignorant  of  all  that  was  going  on,  rejoiced 
secretly  at  his  indisposition  because  she  was  allowed  to 
nurse  him  and  have  him  all  to  herself.  Panine,  alarmed 
at  the  check  they  had  experienced,  was  expecting  Her- 
zog  with  feverish  impatience,  and  to  keep  out  of  sight 
had  chosen  the  privacy  of  his  own  room. 

Still,  Cayrol  had  been  allowed  to  see  him,  and  with 
great  circumspection  told  him  that  his  non-appearance 
at  the  same  time  that  Herzog  was  absent  was  most  fatal 
for  the  Universal  Credit  Company.  It  was  absolutely 
necessary  that  he  should  be  seen  in  public.  He  must 
come  to  his  party,  and  appear  with  a  calm  face.  Serge 
promised  to  come,  and  had  imposed  on  Micheline  the 
heavy  task  of  accompanying  him  to  Jeanne's.  It  was 
the  first  time  since  her  return  from  Nice  that  she  had 
entered  the  house  of  her  husband's  mistress. 

The  concert  was  over,  and  a  crowd  of  guests  were 
coming  from  the  large  drawing-room  to  the  boudoir  and 
little  drawing-room. 

"The  symphony  is  over.  Ouf ! "  said  Savinien,  yawn- 
ing. 

"You  don't  like  music?"  asked  Marechal,  with  a 
laugh. 

"Yes,  military  music.  But  two  hours  of  Schumann 
and  Mendelssohn  at  high  pressure  is  too  much  for  one 
man.  But  I  say,  Marechal,  what  do  you  think  of  Made- 
moiselle Herzog's  being  at  Cayrol's  soiree.  It  is  a  little 
too  strong." 

"How  so?" 

"Why,  the  father  has  bolted,  and  the  daughter  is 
[264] 


SERGE  PANINE 

preparing  a  dance.    Each  has  a  different  way  of  using 
their  feet." 

"Very  pretty,  Monsieur  Desvarennes,  but  I  advise 
you  to  keep  your  flashes  of  wit  to  yourself,"  said 
Marechal,  seriously.  "That  may  not  suit  every- 
body." 

"Oh,  Marechal,  you,  too,  making  a  fuss!" 

And  turning  on  his  heel,  he  went  to  the  refreshment 
table. 

Prince  and  Princess  Panine  were  just  coming  in. 
Micheline  was  smiling,  and  Serge  was  pale,  though 
calm.  Cayrol  and  Jeanne  came  toward  them.  Every- 
body turned  to  look  at  them.  Jeanne,  without  embar- 
rassment, shook  hands  with  her  friend.  Cayrol  bowed 
respectfully  to  Micheline. 

"Princess,"  he  said,  "will  you  honor  me  by  taking 
my  arm  ?  You  are  just  in  time,  they  are  going  to  begin 
dancing." 

"Not  myself,  though,  thank  you,"  replied  Micheline, 
with  a  sad  smile,  "I  am  still  very  weak,  but  I  will  look 
on." 

And  on  Cayrol's  arm  she  entered  the  large  drawing- 
room.  Serge  followed  with  Jeanne. 

The  festivities  were  at  their  height.  The  orchestra 
was  playing  a  waltz,  and  in  a  whirl  of  silk  and  gauze  the 
young  people  seemed  to  be  thoroughly  enjoying  them- 
selves. 

Suzanne  Herzog  was  sitting  alone  near  a  window,  in 
a  simple  white  dress,  and  without  a  single  ornament. 
Marechal  had  just  approached  her,  and  she  had  wel- 
comed him  with  a  smile. 

[265] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"Are  you  not  dancing  to-night,  Mademoiselle?"  he 
asked. 

"I  am  waiting  to  be  invited,"  she  answered,  sadly  > 
"  and,  like  sister  Anne,  I  see  nobody  coming.  There  are 
ugly  reports  abroad  about  my  father's  fortune,  and  the 
Argonauts  are  drawing  off." 

"Will  you  give  me  a  dance?"  said  Marechal.  "I 
don't  dance  to  perfection,  never  having  practised 
much,  but  with  a  good  will " 

"Thank  you,  Monsieur  Marechal,  I  would  rather 
talk.  I  am  not  very  cheerful  to-night,  and,  believe  me, 
I  only  came  because  Madame  Desvarennes  wished  it. 
I  would  rather  have  remained  at  home.  Business  has 
gone  wrong  with  my  father  by  what  I  can  hear,  for  I 
don't  know  what  goes  on  at  the  office.  I  feel  more  in- 
clined to  cry  than  to  laugh.  Not  that  I  regret  the  loss  of 
money,  you  know;  I  don't  care  for  it,  but  my  father 
must  be  in  despair." 

Marechal  listened  silently  to  Suzanne,  not  daring  to 
tell  her  what  he  thought  of  Herzog,  and  respected  the 
real  ignorance  or  willing  blindness  of  the  young  girl 
who  did  not  doubt  her  father's  loyalty. 

The  Princess,  leaning  on  Cayrol's  arm,  had  just  fin- 
ished promenading  round  the  rooms,  when  she  per- 
ceived Suzanne  and,  leaving  the  banker,  came  and  soated 
herself  beside  her.  Many  of  the  guests  looked  at  each 
other  and  whispered  words  which  Micheline  did  not 
hear,  and  if  she  had  heard  would  not  have  understood. 
•"It  is  heroic!"  some  said.  Others  answered,  "It  is  the 
height  of  impudence." 

The  Princess  was  talking  with  Suzanne  and  was  look- 
[266] 


SERGE  PANINE 

ing  at  her  husband  who,  leaning  against  a  door,  was  fol- 
lowing Jeanne  with  his  eyes. 

At  a  sign  from  Cayrol,  Marechal  left  the  room.  The 
secretary  joined  Madame  Desvarennes,  who  had  come 
with  Pierre  and  had  remained  in  Cayrol' s  private  office. 
During  this  party  matters  of  moment  were  to  be  dis- 
cussed, and  a  consultation  was  about  to  take  place  be- 
tween the  interested  parties.  On  seeing  Marechal 
enter,  Madame  only  uttered  one  word : 

"  Cayrol?" 

"Here  he  is,"  answered  the  secretary. 

Cayrol  came  in,  hurriedly. 

"Well,"  he  asked,  with  great  anxiety,  "have  you  any 
news?" 

"Pierre  has  just  come  from  London,"  answered  the 
mistress.  "What  we  feared  is  true.  Herzog,  con- 
jointly with  my  son-in-law,  has  made  use  of  the  ten 
millions  belonging  to  the  European  Credit." 

"Do  you  think  that  Herzog  has  really  bolted?"  in- 
quired Marechal. 

"No!  he  is  too  deep  for  that,"  replied  Cayrol.  "He 
will  return.  He  knows  that  in  compromising  the  Prince 
it  is  as  if  he  had  compromised  the  firm  of  Desvarennes, 
therefore  he  is  quite  easy  on  the  matter." 

"Can  the  one  be  saved  without  the  other?"  asked  the 
mistress. 

"It  is  impossible.  Herzog  has  so  firmly  bound  up 
his  interests  with  those  of  the  Prince  that  it  will 
be  necessary  to  extricate  both  or  let  both  perish  to- 
gether." 

"Well,  we  must  save  Herzog  into  the  bargain,  then!" 
[267] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

said  Madame  Desvarennes,  coldly.  "But  by  what 
means?" 

"These,"  answered  Cayrol.  " The  shares  taken  away 
by  Herzog,  under  the  security  of  the  Prince's  signature, 
were  deposited  by  the  shareholders.  When  the  Univer- 
sal Credit  removed  to  its  new  offices,  these  shares  were 
taken  away  by  mistake.  It  will  suffice  to  replace  the 
scrip.  I  will  give  back  the  receipt  to  the  Prince  and  all 
trace  of  this  deplorable  affair  will  be  wiped  out." 

"But  the  numbers  of  the  shares  will  not  be  the 
same,"  said  Madame  Desvarennes,  accustomed  to 
minute  regularity  in  all  operations. 

"We  can  explain  the  change  by  feigning  a  sale  when 
they  were  high,  and  buying  them  up  when  low.  We 
will  show  a  profit,  and  the  shareholders  will  not  otuar- 
rel.  Besides,  I  reserve  the  right  of  divulging  Herzog's 
fraud  without  implicating  Panine,  if  the  shareholders  in- 
sist. Trust  me,  I  will  catch  Herzog  another  time.  It 
is  my  stupid  confidence  in  that  man  which  has  been 
partly  the  cause  of  this  disaster.  I  will  make  your 
business  mine  and  force  him  to  shell  out.  I  shall  leave 
for  London  to-night,  by  the  1.50  train.  Promptness  of 
action  in  such  a  case  is  the  first  step  toward  success." 

"Thank  you,  Cayrol,"  said  the  mistress.  "Have  my 
daughter  and  the  Prince  arrived?" 

"Yes,  Serge  is  calm;  he  has  more  power  over  him- 
self than  I  could  have  believed." 

"What  does  it  matter  to  him  what  is  going  on ?    Is  it 

he  who  will  feel  the  blow  ?    No.    He  knows  that  I  shall 

go  on  working  to  keep  him  in  idleness  and  maintain  him 

in  luxury.    I  may  think  myself  lucky  if  he  is  reclaimed 

[268] 


SERGE  PANINE 

by  this  hard  lesson,  and  does  not  again  begin  to  rum- 
mage in  other  people's  safes,  for  then  I  should  be  un- 
able to  save  him." 

The  mistress  rose  and,  with  flashing  eyes,  walked  up 
and  down  the  room. 

"Oh,  the  wretch!"  she  said.  "If  ever  my  daughter 
ceases  to  come  between  him  and  me!" 

A  terrible  gesture  finished  the  sentence. 

Cayrol,  Marechal,  and  Pierre  looked  at  each  other. 
The  same  thought  came  to  their  minds,  dark  and  fear- 
ful. In  a  paroxysm  of  rage  this  fond  mother,  this  ener- 
getic and  passionate  woman,  would  be  capable  of  kill- 
ing any  one. 

"You  remember  what  I  told  you  one  day,"  mur- 
mured Marechal,  approaching  Cayrol. 

"I  would  prefer  the  hatred  of  ten  men  to  that  of  such 
a  woman,"  answered  Cayrol. 

"Cayrol!"  continued  Madame  Desvarennes,  after  a 
few  moments  of  meditation,  "the  conduct  of  the  busi- 
ness of  which  you  spoke  to  us  a  little  while  ago  depends 
solely  on  you,  does  it  not?" 

"On  me  alone." 

"Do  it  at  once,  then,  cost  me  what  it  may.  Has  it 
been  noised  abroad?" 

"No  one  has  the  slightest  suspicion.  I  have  not 
mentioned  it  to  a  living  soul,"  said  the  banker — "ex- 
cept to  my  wife,"  added  he  with  a  frankness  which 
drew  a  smile  from  Pierre.  "But  my  wife  and  I  are 
one." 

"What  did  she  say?"  asked  Madame  Desvarenes, 
looking  straight  at  Cayrol. 

[269] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"If  I  had  been  the  person  concerned,"  he  said,  "she 
could  not  possibly  have  been  more  affected.  She  loves 
you  so  much,  Madame,  you  and  those  belonging  to  you. 
She  besought  me  to  do  all  in  my  power  to  get  the 
Prince  out  of  this  scrape.  She  had  tears  in  her  eyes. 
And,  truly,  if  I  did  not  feel  bound  to  serve  you  from 
gratitude  I  would  do  it  for  her  sake  and  to  give  her 
pleasure.  I  was  touched,  I  can  assure  you.  Really,  she 
has  a  heart!" 

Marechal  exchanged  a  look  with  Madame  Desva- 
rennes,  who  advanced  toward  the  banker,  and  shook 
him  by  the  hand,  saying: 

"Cayrol,  you  are  truly  a  good  man!" 

"I  know  it,"  said  Cayrol,  smiling  to  hide  his  emotion, 
"and  you  may  rely  upon  me." 

Micheline  appeared  on  the  threshold  of  the  room. 
Through  the  half -open  door  the  dancers  could  be  seen 
passing  to  and  fro,  and  the  sound  of  music  floated  in 
the  air. 

"What  has  become  of  you,  mamma?  I  hear  that 
you  have  been  here  for  more  than  an  hour." 

"I  was  talking  on  business  matters  with  these  gen- 
tlemen," answered  Madame  Desvarennes,  smoothing 
from  her  brow  the  traces  of  her  cares  by  an  effort  of 
will.  "But  you,  dear,  how  do  you  feel?  Are  you  not 
tired?" 

"Not  more  so  than  usual,"  replied  Micheline,  look- 
ing round  to  follow  the  movements  of  her  husband,  who 
was  trying  to  reach  Jeanne. 

"Why  did  you  come  to  this  party?  It  was  un- 
wise." 

[270] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"Serge  wished  me  to  come,  and  I  did  not  care  to  let 
him  come  without  me." 

"Eh!  dear  me!''  exclaimed  Madame  Desvarennes. 
"Let  him  do  what  he  likes.  Men  are  savages.  When 
you  are  ill  it  won't  hurt  him." 

"I  am  not  ill,  and  I  won't  be,"  resumed  Micheline, 
warmly.  "We  are  going  away  now." 

She  motioned  to  Serge  with  her  fan.  Panine  came  to 
her. 

"You  will  take  me  home,  won't  you,  Serge?" 

"Certainly,  dear  one,"  answered  Serge. 

Jeanne,  who  was  listening  at  a  distance,  raised  her 
hand  to  her  forehead  as  a  sign  that  she  wanted  him.  A 
feeling  of  surprise  came  over  the  Prince,  and  he  did  not 
understand  what  she  meant.  Micheline  had  seen  the 
sign.  A  deadly  pallor  spread  over  her  features,  and  a 
cold  perspiration  broke  out  on  her  forehead.  She  felt 
so  ill  that  she  could  have  cried  out.  It  was  the  first 
time  she  had  seen  Serge  and  Jeanne  together  since  the 
dreadful  discovery  at  Nice.  She  had  avoided  witness- 
ing their  meeting,  feeling  uncertain  of  herself,  and  fear- 
ing to  lose  her  self-control.  But  seeing  the  two  lovers 
before  her,  devouring  each  other  with  their  looks,  and 
making  signs  to  each  other,  made  her  feel  most  terribly 
jealous  and  angry. 

Serge  had  decided  to  obey  the  imperious  signs  which 
Jeanne  made  to  him,  and  turning  toward  his  wife,  said : 

"I  remember  now,  my  dear,  that  before  going  home 
I  must  call  at  the  club.  I  promised,  and  cannot  put 
it  off.  Excuse  my  not  going  with  you,  and  ask  your 
mother  to  accompany  you." 

[271] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"Very  well,"  said  Micheline,  in  a  trembling  voice. 
"I  will  ask  her.  You  are  not  going  just  yet?" 

"In  a  moment." 

"I,  too,  shall  leave  in  a  moment." 

The  young  wife  did  not  want  to  lose  one  detail  of  the 
horrible  comedy  being  played  under  her  very  eyes.  She 
remained  to  learn,  unawares,  the  reason  for  which 
Jeanne  kept  her  husband. 

Not  thinking  that  he  was  watched,  Serge  had  gone 
across  to  Jeanne,  and  affecting  a  smile,  inquired : 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

"Serious  news."  And  she  explained  that  she  must 
speak  to  her  lover  that  evening. 

"Where?"  Serge  asked,  with  astonishment. 

"Here,"  answered  Jeanne. 

"But  your  husband?"  the  Prince  said. 

"Is  leaving  in  an  hour.  Our  guests  will  not  remain 
late.  Go  to  the  garden,  and  wait  in  the  pavilion.  The 
door  of  the  back  stairs  leading  to  my  dressing-room 
will  be  open.  When  everybody  has  gone,  come 
up." 

"Take  care;  we  are  observed,"  said  Serge,  uneasily. 

And  they  began  to  laugh  with  affectation  and  talked 
aloud  about  frivolous  things,  as  if  nothing  serious  were 
occupying  their  thoughts.  Cayrol  had  come  back  again. 
He  went  up  to  Madame  Desvarennes,  who  was  talking 
with  her  daughter,  and,  full  of  business,  thoughtlessly 
said: 

"I  will  telegraph  you  as  soon  as  I  reach  London." 

"Are  you  going  away?"  inquired  Micheline,  a  light 
dawning  on  her  mind. 

[272] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"Yes,"  said  Cayrol;  "I  have  an  important  matter  to 
settle." 

"And  when  do  you  start?"  continued  Micheline,  in 
such  a  changed  voice  that  her  mother  was  frightened. 

"In  a  moment,"  answered  the  banker.  "Allow  me 
to  leave  you.  I  have  several  orders  to  give." 

And  leaving  the  boudoir,  he  regained  the  little  draw- 
ing-room. 

Micheline,  with  clinched  hands  and  fixed  gaze,  was 
saying  to  herself: 

"She  will  be  alone  to-night,  and  has  asked  him  to 
come  to  her.  He  told  me  an  untruth  about  his  having 
to  go  to  the  club.  He  is  going  to  see  her!" 

And  passing  her  hand  across  her  brow,  as  if  to  drive 
away  an  unpleasant  thought,  the  young  wife  remained 
silent,  dismayed  and  crushed. 

"Micheline,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?"  asked 
Madame  Desvarennes,  seizing  her  daughter's  hand, 
which  was  icy  cold. 

"Nothing,"  stammered  Micheline. 

"You  are  ill,  I  see.  Come,  let  us  go  home.  Come 
and  kiss  Jeanne " 

"I!"  cried  Micheline,  with  horror,  instinctively  re- 
coiling as  if  dreading  some  impure  contact. 

Madame  Desvarennes  became  suddenly  cold  and 
calm.  She  foresaw  a  terrible  revelation,  and  observing 
her  daughter  narrowly,  said : 

"Why  do  you  cry  out  when  I  speak  of  your  kissing 
Jeanne?  Whatever  is  the  matter?" 

Micheline  grasped  her  mother's  arm,  and  pointed  to 
Serge  and  Jeanne,  who  were  in  the  little  drawing-room, 
18  [273] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

laughing  and  talking,  surrounded  by  a  group  of  people, 
yet  alone. 

"Look  at  them!"  she  cried. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  exclaimed  the  mother  in 
agony.  She  read  the  truth  in  her  daughter's  eyes. 

"You  know — "  she  began. 

"That  he  is  her  lover,"  cried  Micheline,  interrupting 
her.  "Don't  you  see  that  I  am  dying  through  it?"  she 
added,  sobbing  bitterly  and  falling  into  her  mother's 
arms. 

The  mistress  carried  her  as  if  she  had  been  a  child 
into  CayroPs  private  office,  and  shut  the  door.  Then, 
kneeling  beside  the  couch  on  which  Micheline  was 
stretched,  she  gave  vent  to  her  grief.  She  begged  her 
daughter  to  speak  to  her,  and  warmed  her  hands  with 
kisses;  then,  seeing  her  still  cold  and  motionless,  she 
was  frightened,  and  wanted  to  call  for  help. 

"No;  be  quiet!"  murmured  Micheline,  recovering. 
"Let  no  one  know.  I  ought  to  have  held  my  peace; 
but  I  have  suffered  so  much  I  could  not  help  myself. 
My  life  is  blasted,  you  see.  Take  me  away;  save  me 
from  this  infamy!  Jeanne,  my  sister,  and  Serge.  Oh! 
make  me  forget  it!  For  pity's  sake,  mamma,  you  who 
are  so  strong,  you  who  have  always  done  what  you 
wished,  take  from  my  heart  all  the  pain  that  is  there!" 

Madame  Desvarennes,  overcome  by  such  a  load  of 
grief,  lost  command  of  herself,  and,  quite  broken- 
hearted, began  to  cry  and  moan. 

"  O  God !  Micheline,  my  poor  child !  you  were  suffer- 
ing so  and  did  not  tell  me.  Oh !  I  knew  you  no  longer 
trusted  your  old  mother.  And  I  stupidly  did  not  guess 
[274] 


SERGE  PANINE 

it!  I  said  to  myself,  at  least  she  knows  nothing  about  it, 
and  sacrificed  everything  to  keep  the  knowledge  of  their 
wrong-doing  from  you.  Don't  cry  any  more,  darling, 
you  will  break  my  heart.  I,  who  would  have  given  up 
everything  in  the  world  to  see  you  happy!  Oh,  I  have 
loved  you  too  much!  How  I  am  punished!" 

"It  is  I  who  am  punished,"  said  Micheline,  sobbing, 
"for  not  obeying  you.  Ah!  children  ought  always  to 
heed  their  mother.  She  divines  the  danger.  Is  it  not 
too  horrible,  mamma?  I,  who  have  sacrificed  every- 
thing for  him,  to  think  that  he  does  not  love  me,  and 
never  will  love  me!  What  will  my  life  be  without  con- 
fidence, hope,  or  affection?  I  am  too  unhappy.  It 
would  be  better  to  die!" 

"Die!  you!"  cried  her  mother,  whose  eyes,  wet  with 
tears,  dried  in  a  moment,  as  if  by  an  inward  fire.  "Die ! 
Come,  don't  talk  such  nonsense!  Because  a  man  treats 
you  with  scorn  and  betrays  you  ?  Are  men  worth  dy- 
ing for  ?  No,  you  shall  live,  my  darling,  with  your  old 
mother.  You  shall  have  a  deed  of  separation  from 
your  husband." 

"And  he  will  be  free,"  exclaimed  Micheline,  angrily. 
"He  will  go  on  loving  her!  Oh!  I  cannot  bear  that 
thought.  Do  you  know,  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you 
seems  awful.  I  love  him  so  much,  that  I  would  rather 
see  him  dead  than  unfaithful." 

Madame  Desvarennes  was  struck,  and  remained  si- 
lent. Serge  dead!  That  idea  had  already  occurred  to 
her  as  a  dream  of  deliverance.  It  came  upon  her  per- 
emptorily, violently,  irresistibly.  She  repelled  it  with 
an  effort. 

[275] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"I  can  never  think  of  him  but  as  vile  and  odious,'' 
continued  Micheline.  "Every  day  his  sin  will  seem 
more  dastardly  and  his  hypocrisy  more  base.  There,  a 
little  while  ago,  he  was  smiling;  and  do  you  know  why? 
Because  Cayrol  is  going  away,  and  during  his  absence 
Serge  will  return  here  to-night." 

"Who  told  you?" 

"I  read  it  in  his  joyful  looks.  I  love  him.  He  can- 
not hide  anything  from  me.  A  traitor  to  me,  and  a 
traitor  toward  his  friend,  that  is  the  man  whom — I  am 
ashamed  to  own  it — I  love!" 

"Compose  yourself!  Some  one  is  coming,"  said  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes,  and  at  the  same  time  the  door 
opened  and  Jeanne  appeared,  followed  by  Marechal, 
who  was  anxious  at  their  disappearance. 

"Is  Micheline  ill?"  inquired  Madame  Cayrol,  com- 
ing forward. 

"No;  it  is  nothing.  Just  a  little  fatigue,"  said  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes.  "Marechal, give  my  daughter  your 
arm,  and  take  her  to  her  carriage.  I  shall  be  down  in 
a  minute." 

And  holding  Jeanne  by  the  hand  to  prevent  her  fol- 
lowing Micheline,  she  added : 

"Stay;  I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

Jeanne  looked  surprised.  Madame  Desvarennes 
was  silent  for  a  moment.  She  was  thinking  about  Serge 
coming  there  that  night.  She  had  only  to  say  one  word 
to  Cayrol  to  prevent  his  going  away.  The  life  of  this 
wretch  was  entirely  in  her  hands  then!  But  Jeanne! 
Was  she  going  to  ruin  her  ?  Had  she  the  right  thus  to 
destroy  one  who  had  struggled  and  had  defended  her- 
[276] 


SERGE  PANINE 

self  ?  Would  it  be  just  ?  Jeanne  had  been  led  on  against 
her  will.  She  must  question  her.  If  the  poor  girl  were 
suffering,  if  she  repented,  she  must  spare  her. 

Madame  Desvarennes,  having  thus  made  up  her 
mind,  turned  toward  Jeanne  who  was  waiting. 

"It  is  a  longtime  since  I  have  seen  you,  my  dear, 
and  I  find  you  happy  and  smiling.  It  is  the  first 
time  since  your  marriage  that  you  have  seemed  so 
happy." 

Jeanne  looked  at  the  mistress  without  answering.  In 
these  words  she  detected  irony. 

"You  have  found  peace,"  continued  Madame  Des- 
varennes, looking  steadfastly  at  Jeanne  with  her  pierc- 
ing eyes.  "You  see,  my  dear,  when  you  have  a  clear 
conscience — for  you  have  nothing  to  reproach  your- 
self with?" 

Jeanne  saw  in  this  sentence  a  question  and  not  an 
affirmation.  She  answered,  boldly: 

"Nothing!" 

"You  know  that  I  love  you,  and  would  be  most  le- 
nient," continued  Madame  Desvarennes,  sweetly,  "and 
that  you  might  safely  confide  in  me!" 

"I  have  nothing  to  fear,  having  nothing  to  tell,"  said 
Jeanne. 

"Nothing?"  repeated  the  mistress,  with  emphasis. 
*    "Nothing,"  affirmed  Jeanne. 

Madame  Desvarennes  once  more  looked  at  her 
adopted  daughter  as  if  she  would  read  her  very  soul. 
She  found  her  quite  calm. 

"Very  well,  then!"  said  she,  hastily  walking  toward 
the  door. 

[277] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"Are  you  going  already?"  asked  Jeanne,  offering  her 
brow  to  Madame  Desvarennes's  lips. 

"Yes,  good-by!"  said  the  latter,  with  an  icy  kiss. 

Jeanne,  without  again  turning  round,  went  into  the 
drawing-room.  At  the  same  moment,  Cayrol,  in  a 
travelling-coat,  entered  the  office,  followed  by  Pierre. 

"Here  I  am,  quite  ready,"  said  the  banker  to  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes.  "Have  you  any  new  suggestion  to 
make  to  me,  or  anything  else  to  say?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Madame  Desvarennes,  in  a  stern 
voice  which  made  Cayrol  start. 

"Then  make  haste.  I  have  only  a  moment  to  spare, 
and  you  know  the  train  waits  for  no  one." 

"You  will  not  go!" 

Cayrol,  in  amazement,  answered : 

"Do  you  mean  it?  Your  interests  are  at  stake  yon- 
der." 

"Your  honor  is  in  danger  here,"  cried  the  mistress, 
vehemently. 

"My  honor !"  repeated  Cayrol,  starting  back.  "Ma- 
dame, do  you  know  what  you  are  saying?" 

"Ay!"  answered  Madame  Desvarennes.  "And  do 
you  remember  what  I  promised  you?  I  undertook  to 
warn  you,  myself,  if  ever  the  day  came  when  you  would 
be  threatened." 

"Well?"  questioned  Cayrol,  turning  quite  livid. 

"Well!  I  keep  my  promise.  If  you  wish  to  know 
who  your  rival  is,  come  home  to-night." 

Some  inaudible  words  rattled  in  Cayrol's  throat. 

"A  rival!  in  my  house!    Can  Jeanne  be  guilty?    Do 
you  know,  if  it  is  true  I  will  kill  them  both!" 
[278] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"Deal  with  them  as  your  conscience  dictates,"  said 
Madame  Desvarennes.  "I  have  acted  according  to 
mine." 

Pierre,  hitherto  dumb  with  horror  at  the  scene  of 
which  he  had  been  a  witness,  shook  off  his  stupor,  and 
going  up  to  Madame  Desvarennes,  said : 

"Madame,  do  you  know  that  what  you  have  just 
done  is  frightful!" 

"How?  That  man  will  be  acting  within  his  rights 
the  same  as  I  am.  They  are  seeking  to  take  away  his 
wife,  and  they  are  killing  my  daughter,  and  dishonor- 
ing me!  We  are  defending  ourselves!  Woe  to  those 
who  are  guilty  of  the  crime!" 

Cayrol  had  fallen,  as  if  thunderstruck,  on  a  chair, 
with  haggard  eyes;  his  voice  was  gone,  and  he  looked  the 
image  of  despair.  Madame  Desvarennes's  words  came 
back  to  him  like  the  refrain  of  a  hated  song.  To  him- 
self he  kept  repeating,  without  being  able  to  chase  away 
the  one  haunting  thought:  "Her  lover,  to-night,  at  your 
house!"  He  felt  as  if  he  were  going  mad.  He  was 
afraid  he  should  not  have  time  to  wreak  his  vengeance. 
He  made  a  terrible  effort,  and,  moaning  with  grief,  he 
arose. 

"Take  care!"  said  Pierre.    "Here's  your  wife." 

Cayrol  eyed  Jeanne,  who  was  approaching.  Burn- 
ing tears  came  to  his  eyes.  He  murmured : 

"She,  with  a  look  so  pure,  and  a  face  so  calm!  Is  it 
possible?" 

He  nodded  a  farewell  to  Pierre  and  Madame  Desva- 
rennes, who  were  leaving,  and  recovering  himself,  ad- 
vanced to  meet  Jeanne. 

[279] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"Are  you  off?"  she  inquired.  "You  know  you  have 
no  time  to  lose!" 

Cayrol  shuddered.  She  seemed  anxious  to  get  rid  of 
him. 

"I  have  still  a  few  minutes  to  spend  with  you,"  he 
said,  with  emotion.  "You  see,  Jeanne,  I  am  sad  at  go- 
ing away  alone.  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  left  you.  In 
a  moment  our  guests  will  be  gone — I  beg  of  you,  come 
with  me!" 

Jeanne  smiled. 

"But  you  see,  dear,  I  am  in  evening  dress." 

"The  night  of  our  marriage  I  brought  you  away  from 
Cernay  like  that.  Wrap  yourself  up  in  your  furs,  and 
come!  Give  me  this  proof  of  affection.  I  deserve  it.  I 
am  not  a  bad  man — and  I  love  you  so!" 

Jeanne  frowned.    This  pressing  vexed  her. 

"This  ischildish,"  she  said.  "You  will  return  the  day 
after  to-morrow,  and  I  am  tired.  Have  some  pity  for  me." 

"You  refuse?"  asked  Cayrol,  becoming  gloomy  and 
serious. 

Jeanne  touched  his  face  slightly  with  her  white  hand. 

"Come!  Don't  leave  me  in  a  temper!  You  won't 
miss  me  much,  you  will  sleep  all  the  way.  Good-by!" 

Cayrol  kissed  her;  in  a  choking  voice,  he  said: 

"Good-by!" 

And  he  left  her. 

Jeanne's  face  brightened,  as  she  stood  listening  for  a 
moment  and  heard  the  carriage  which  contained  her 
husband  rolling  away.  Uttering  a  sigh  of  relief,  she 
murmured : 

"At  last!" 

[280] 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  CRISIS 

;EANNE,  in  her  bedroom,  had  just  taken 
off  her  ball-dress  to  put  on  a  dressing- 
gown  of  Oriental  cloth  richly  embroid- 
ered with  silk  flowers.  Leaning  her 
elbows  on  the  mantelpiece,  and  breath- 
ing heavily,  she  was  waiting.  Her  maid 
came  in,  bringing  a  second  lamp.  The 
additional  light  displayed  the  rich 
warm  hangings  of  ruby  plush  embroidered  in  dull  gold. 
The  bed  seemed  one  mass  of  lace. 

"Has  everybody  gone?"  asked  Jeanne,  pretending  to 
yawn. 

"Messieurs  Le  Brede  and  Du  Tremblay,  the  last 
guests,  are  just  putting  on  their  overcoats,"  answered 
the  maid.  "But  Monsieur  Pierre  Delarue  has  come 
back,  and  is  asking  whether  Madame  will  speak  with 
him  for  a  moment." 

"  Monsieur  X)elarue  ?"  repeated  Jeanne,  with  aston- 
ishment. 

"He  says  he  has  something  important  to  say  to 
Madame." 

"Where  is  he?"  asked  Jeanne. 
"There,  in  the  gallery.    The  lights  were  being  put 
out  in  the  drawing-room." 
"Well,  show  him  in." 

[281] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

The  maid  went  out.  Jeanne,  much  puzzled,  asked 
herself,  what  could  have  brought  Pierre  back  ?  It  must 
certainly  be  something  very  important.  She  had  al- 
ways felt  somewhat  awed  in  Pierre's  presence.  At  that 
moment  the  idea  of  being  face  to  face  with  the  young 
man  was  most  distressing  to  her. 

A  curtain  was  lifted  and  Pierre  appeared.  He  re- 
mained silent  and  confused  at  the  entrance  of  the 
room,  his  courage  had  deserted  him. 

"Well,"  said  Jeanne,  with  assumed  stiffness,  "what- 
ever is  the  matter,  my  friend?" 

"The  matter  is,  my  dear  Jeanne,"  began  Pierre, 
"that " 

But  the  explanation  did  not  seem  so  very  easy  to 
give,  for  he  stopped  and  could  not  go  on. 

"That?"  repeated  Madame  Cayrol. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  resumed  Pierre.  " I  am  greatly 
embarrassed.  In  coming  here  I  obeyed  a  sudden  im- 
pulse. I  did  not  think  of  the  manner  in  which  I  should 
tell  you  what  I  have  to  say,  and  I  see  that  I  shall  have  to 
run  a  great  risk  of  offending  you." 

Jeanne  assumed  a  haughty  air. 

"Well,  but,  my  dear  friend,  if  what  you  have  to  say 
is  so  difficult,  don't  say  it." 

"Impossible!"  retorted  Pierre.  "My  silence  would 
cause  irreparable  mischief.  In  mercy,  Jeanne,  make 
my  task  easier!  Meet  me  half  way!  You  have  proj- 
ects for  to-night  which  are  known.  Danger  threatens 
you.  Take  care!" 

Jeanne  shuddered.  But  controlling  herself,  she  an- 
swered, laughing  nervously: 

[282] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"What  rubbish  are  you  talking  about?  I  am  at 
home,  surrounded  by  my  servants,  and  I  have  nothing 
to  fear.  I  beg  of  you  to  believe  me." 

"You  deny  it!"  exclaimed  Pierre.  "I  expected  as 
much.  But  you  are  only  taking  useless  trouble.  Come, 
Jeanne,  I  am  the  friend  of  your  childhood;  you  have 
no  reason  to  fear  aught  from  me.  I  am  only  trying  to 
be  of  use  to  you.  You  must  know  that,  by  my  coming 
here,  I  know  all.  Jeanne,  listen  to  me!" 

"Are  you  mad?"  interrupted  the  young  woman, 
proudly,  "or  are  you  taking  part  in  some  absurd  joke  ?" 

"I  am  in  my  right  mind,  unfortunately  for  you!" 
said  Pierre,  roughly,  seeing  that  Jeanne  refused  to  be- 
lieve him.  "And  there  is  no  joke  in  the  matter.  Every- 
thing is  true,  serious  and  terrible!  Since  you  compel 
me  to  say  things  which  may  be  unpalatable,  they  must 
out.  Prince  Panine  is  in  your  house,  or  he  soon  will  be. 
Your  husband,  whom  you  think  far  away,  is  within 
call,  perhaps,  and  will  come  and  take  you  unawares. 
Is  not  that  a  serious  matter?" 

A  frown  overspread  her  face,  and  in  an  ungovern- 
able rage  she  stepped  forward,  determined  not  to  give 
in,  and  exclaimed : 

"Go  away!  .or  I  shall  call  for  assistance!" 

"Don't  call,  it  would  look  bad!"  resumed  Pierre, 
calmly.  "On  the  contrary,  let  the  servants  get  out  of 
the  way,  and  get  the  Prince  to  go  if  he  be  here,  or  if  he 
has  not  yet  arrived,  prevent  his  coming  in.  So  long 
as  I  remain  here  you  will  dissimulate  your  fear  and  will 
not  take  any  precautions.  I  will  leave  you,  then. 
Adieu,  Jeanne!  Believe  that  I  wished  to  render  you  a 
[283] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

service,  and  be  sure  that  when  I  have  crossed  the  thresh- 
old of  this  door  I  shall  have  forgotten  everything  that  I 
may  have  said." 

Pierre  bowed,  and,  lifting  the  heavy  curtain  which 
hid  the  door  leading  to  the  gallery,  went  out. 

He  had  hardly  gone  when  the  opposite  door  opened, 
and  Serge  entered  the  room.  The  young  woman  rushed 
into  his  arms  and  whispered  into  his  ear,  with  trembling 
lips: 

"Serge,  we  are  lost!" 

"I  was  there,"  answered  Panine.    "I  heard  all." 

"What  shall  we  do?"  cried  Jeanne,  terrified. 

"  Go  away  at  once.  To  remain  here  a  moment  longer 
is  an  imprudence." 

"And  I,  if  I  remain,  what  shall  I  say  to  Cayrol  when 
becomes?" 

"Your  husband!"  said  Serge,  bitterly.  "He  loves 
you,  he  will  forgive  you." 

"I  know;  but  then  we  two  shall  be  separated  for 
ever.  Is  that  what  you  desire  ?  " 

"And  what  can  I  do?"  cried  Serge,  in  despair. 
"Everything  around  me  is  giving  way !  Fortune,  which 
has  been  my  one  aim  in  life,  is  escaping  from  me.  The 
family  which  I  have  scorned  is  forsaking  me.  The 
friendship  which  I  have  betrayed  overwhelms  me. 
There  is  nothing  left  to  me." 

"And  my  love,  my  devotion?"  exclaimed  Jeanne, 
passionately.  "Do  you  think  that  I  will  leave  you? 
We  must  go  away.  I  asked  you  long  ago.  You  re- 
sisted ;  the  moment  has  now  come.  Be  easy !  Madame 
Desvarennes  will  pay  and  save  your  name.  In  exchange 
[284] 


SERGE  PANINE 

you  will  give  her  back  her  daughter.  You  don't  care 
about  her,  because  you  love  me.  I  am  your  real  wife; 
she  who  ought  to  share  your  life.  Well,  I  take  back  my 
rights.  I  pay  for  them  with  my  honor.  I  break  all  ties 
which  could  hold  me  back.  I  am  yours,  Serge!  Our 
sin  and  misfortune  will  bind  us  more  closely  than  any 
laws  could." 

"Think,  that  with  me  you  will  have  to  endure  pov- 
erty, and,  perhaps,  misery,"  said  the  Prince,  moved  by 
the  young  woman's  infatuation. 

"My  love  will  make  you  forget  everything!" 

"You  will  not  feel  regret  or  remorse?" 

"Never,  so  long  as  you  love  me." 

"Come,  then,"  said  the  Prince,  taking  Jeanne  in  his 
arms.  "And  if  life  is  too  hard " 

"Well,"  added  Jeanne,  finishing  the  sentence  with 
sparkling  eyes,  "we  will  seek  refuge  together  in  death! 
Come!" 

Serge  bolted  the  door,  through  which  Pierre  had 
passed,  and  which  alone  communicated  with  the  other 
apartments.  Then,  taking  his  mistress  by  the  hand,  he 
went  with  her  into  the  dressing-room.  Jeanne  threw  a 
dark  cloak  round  her  shoulders,  put  a  hat  on  her  head, 
and  without  taking  either  money,  jewels,  lace,  or,  in  fact, 
anything  that  she  had  received  from  Cayrol,  they  went 
down  the  little  back  stairs. 

It  was  very  dark.  Jeanne  did  not  take  a  light,  as  she 
did  not  care  to  attract  attention,  so  they  had  to  feel  every 
step  of  the  way  as  quietly  as  possible,  striving  not  to 
make  the  least  noise,  holding  their  breath,  and  with 
beating  hearts.  When  they  reached  the  bottom  of  the 
[285] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

stairs,  Jeanne  stretched  out  her  hand,  and  sought  the 
handle  of  the  door  which  opened  into  the  courtyard. 
She  turned  it,  but  the  door  would  not  open.  She  pushed, 
but  it  did  not  give  way.  Jeanne  uttered  a  low  groan. 
Serge  shook  it  vigorously,  but  it  would  not  open. 

"It  has  been  fastened  on  the  outside,"  he  whispered. 

"Fastened?"  murmured  Jeanne,  seized  with  fear. 
"Fastened,  and  by  whom?" 

Serge  did  not  answer.  The  idea  that  Cayrol  had 
done  it  came  to  his  mind  at  once.  The  husband  lying 
in  wait,  had  seen  him  enter,  and  to  prevent  his  escaping 
from  his  vengeance  had  cut  off  all  means  of  retreating. 

Silently,  they  went  upstairs  again,  into  the  room 
through  the  dressing-room.  Jeanne  took  off  her  bon- 
net and  cloak,  and  sank  into  an  armchair. 

"I  must  get  away!"  said  Serge,  with  suppressed  rage; 
and  he  walked  toward  the  door  of  the  gallery. 

"No!  don't  open  that,"  cried  Jeanne,  excitedly. 

And  with  a  frightened  look,  she  added : 

"What  if  he  were  behind  the  door?" 

At  the  same  moment,  as  if  Jeanne's  voice  had  indeed 
evoked  Cayrol,  a  heavy  step  was  heard  approaching 
along  the  gallery,  a  hand  tried  to  open  the  bolted  door. 
Serge  and  Jeanne  remained  motionless,  waiting. 

"Jeanne!"  called  the  voice  of  Cayrol  from  the  out- 
side, sounding  mournfully  in  the  silence,  "Jeanne, 
open!" 

And  with  his  fist  he  knocked  imperatively  on  the 
woodwork. 

"I  know  you  are  there!    Open,  I  say!"  he  cried,  with 

increasing  rage.    "If  you  don't  open  the  door,  I'll " 

[286] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"Go!  I  beseech  you!"  whispered  Jeanne,  in  Panine's 
ear.  "Go  downstairs  again,  and  break  open  the  door. 
You  won't  find  any  one  there  now." 

"Perhaps  he  has  stationed  some  one  there,"  answered 
Serge.  "Besides,  I  won't  leave  you  here  alone  exposed 
to  his  violence." 

"You  are  not  alone.  I  can  hear  you  talking!"  said 
Cayrol,  beside  himself.  "  I  shall  break  open  this  door ! " 

The  husband  made  a  tremendous  effort.  Under  the 
pressure  of  his  heavy  weight  the  lock  gave  way.  With 
a  bound  he  was  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  Jeanne 
threw  herself  before  him ;  she  no  longer  trembled.  Cay- 
rol took  another  step  and  fixed  his  glaring  eyes  on  the 
man  whom  he  sought,  uttering  a  fearful  oath. 

"Serge!"  cried  he.  "I  might  have  guessed  it.  It  is 
not  only  money  of  which  you  are  robbing  me,  you  vil- 
lain!" 

Panine  turned  horribly  pale,  and  advanced  toward 
Cayrol,  despite  Jeanne,  who  was  clinging  to  him. 

"Don't  insult  me;  it  is  superfluous,"  said  he.  "My 
life  belongs  to  you;  you  can  take  it.  I  shall  be  at  your 
service  whenever  you  please." 

Cayrol  burst  into  a  fearful  laugh. 

"Ah!  a  duel!  Come!  Am  I  a  gentleman?  lama 
plebeian !  a  rustic !  a  cowherd !  you  know  that !  I  have 
you  now!  I  am  going  to  smash  you!" 

He  looked  round  the  room  as  if  seeking  a  weapon, 
and  caught  sight  of  the  heavy  fire-dogs.  He  caught  up 
one  with  a  cry  of  triumph,  and,  brandishing  it  like  a 
club,  rushed  at  Serge. 

More  rapid  than  he,  Jeanne  threw  herself  before  her 
[287] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

lover.  She  stretched  out  her  arms,  and  with  a  sharp 
voice,  and  the  look  of  a  she-wolf  defending  her  cubs, 

"Keep  behind  me,"  said  she  to  Serge;  "he  loves  me 
and  will  not  dare  to  strike!" 

Cayrol  had  stopped.  At  these  words  he  uttered  a 
loud  cry: 

"  Ah !  wretched  woman !    You  first,  then ! ' ' 

Raising  his  weapon,  he  was  about  to  strike,  when  his 
eyes  met  Jeanne's.  The  young  woman  was  smiling, 
happy  to  die  for  her  lover.  Her  pale  face  beamed  from 
out  her  black  hair  with  weird  beauty.  Cayrol  trem- 
bled. That  look  which  he  had  loved,  would  he  never 
see  it  again?  That  rosy  mouth,  whose  smile  he  cher- 
ished, would  it  be  hushed  in  death?  A  thousand 
thoughts  of  happy  days  came  to  his  mind.  His  arm 
fell.  A  bitter  flood  rushed  from  his  heart  to  his  eyes; 
the  iron  dropped  heavily  from  his  hand  on  to  the  floor, 
and  the  poor  man,  overcome,  sobbing,  and  ashamed  of 
his  weakness,  fell  senseless  on  a  couch. 

Jeanne  did  not  utter  a  word.  By  a  sign  she  showed 
Serge  the  door,  which  was  open,  and  with  a  swollen 
heart  she  leaned  on  the  mantelpiece,  waiting  for  the  un- 
fortunate man,  from  whom  she  had  received  such  a 
deep  and  sad  proof  of  love,  to  come  back  to  life. 

Serge  had  disappeared. 


[288] 


CHAPTER  XXI 

WHEN  ROGUES  FALL  OUT" 

E  night  seemed  long  to  Madam«s 
Desvarennes.  Agitated  and  feverish, 
she  listened  through  the  silence,  ex- 
pecting every  moment  to  hear  some 
fearful  news.  In  fancy  she  saw  Cayrol 
entering  his  wife's  room  like  a  mad- 
man, unawares.  She  seemed  to  hear 
a  cry  of  rage,  answered  by  a  sigh  of 
terror;  then  a  double  shot  resounded,  the  room  filled 
with  smoke,  and,  struck  down  in  their  guilty  love,  Serge 
and  Jeanne  rolled  in  death,  interlaced  in  each  other's 
arms,  like  Paolo  and  Francesca  de  Rimini,  those  sad 
lovers  of  whom  Dante  tells  us. 

Hour  after  hour  passed;  not  a  sound  disturbed  the 
mansion.  The  Prince  had  not  come  in.  Madame  Des- 
varennes, unable  to  lie  in  bed,  arose,  and  now  and 
again,  to  pass  the  time,  stole  on  tiptoe  to  her  daugh- 
ter's room.  Micheline,  thoroughly  exhausted  with  fa- 
tigue and  emotion,  had  fallen  asleep  on  her  pillow, 
which  was  wet  with  tears. 

Bending  over  her,  by  the  light  of  the  lamp,  the  mis- 
tress gazed  at  Micheline's  pale  face,  and  a  sigh  rose  to 
her  lips. 

"She  is  still  young,"  she  thought;   "she  may  begin 
19  [  289  ] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

life  afresh.  The  remembrance  of  these  sad  days  will 
be  wiped  out,  and  I  shall  see  her  revive  and  smile  again. 
That  wretch  was  nearly  the  death  of  her." 

And  the  image  of  Serge  and  Jeanne  stretched  beside 
each  other  in  the  room  full  of  smoke  came  before  her 
eyes  again.  She  shook  her  head  to  chase  the  impor- 
tunate vision  away,  and  noiselessly  regained  her  own 
apartment. 

The  day  dawned  pale  and  bleak.  Madame  Desva- 
rennes  opened  her  window  and  cooled  her  burning  brow 
in  the  fresh  morning  air.  The  birds  were  awake,  and 
were  singing  on  the  trees  in  the  garden. 

Little  by  little,  the  distant  sound  of  wheels  rolling  by 
was  heard.  The  city  was  awakening  from  its  sleep. 

Madame  Desvarennes  rang  and  asked  for  Marechal. 
The  secretary  appeared  instantly.  He,  too,  had  shared 
the  anxieties  and  fears  of  the  mistress,  and  had  risen 
early.  Madame  Desvarennes  greeted  him  with  a  grate- 
ful smile.  She  felt  that  she  was  really  loved  by  this 
good  fellow,  who  understood  her  so  thoroughly.  She 
begged  him  to  go  to  Cayrol's,  and  gain  some  informa- 
tion, without  giving  him  further  details,  and  she  waited, 
walking  up  and  down  the  room  to  calm  the  fever  of  her 
mind. 

On  leaving  the  house  in  the  Rue  Taitbout,  Serge  felt 
bewildered,  not  daring  to  go  home,  and  unable  to  de- 
cide on  any  plan;  yet  feeling  that  it  was  necessary  to 
fix  on  something  without  delay,  he  reached  the  club. 
The  walk  did  him  good,  and  restored  his  physical 
equilibrium.  He  was  thankful  to  be  alive  after  such  a 
narrow  escape.  He  went  upstairs  with  a  comparatively 
[290] 


SERGE    PANINE 

light  step,  and  tossed  his  overcoat  to  a  very  sleepy 
footman  who  had  risen  to  receive  him.  He  went  into 
the  card-room.  Baccarat  was  just  finishing.  It  was 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  appearance  of  the 
Prince  lent  the  game  a  little  fresh  animation.  Serge 
plunged  into  it  as  if  it  were  a  battle.  Luck  was  on  his 
side.  In  a  short  time  he  cleared  the  bank:  a  thousand 
louis.  One  by  one  the  players  retired.  Panine,  left 
alone,  threw  himself  on  a  couch  and  slept  for  a  few 
hours,  but  it  was  not  a  refreshing  sleep.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  made  him  feel  more  tired. 

The  day  servants  disturbed  him  when  they  came  in 
to  sweep  the  rooms  and  open  the  windows.  He  went 
into  the  lavatory,  and  there  bathed  his  face.  When  his 
ablutions  were  over  he  wrote  a  note  to  Jeanne,  saying 
that  he  had  reflected,  and  could  not  possibly  let  her  go 
away  with  him.  He  implored  her  to  do  all  in  her  power 
to  forget  him.  He  gave  this  letter  to  one  of  the  messen- 
gers, and  told  him  to  give  it  into  the  hands  of  Madame 
Cayrol's  maid,  and  to  none  other. 

The  care  of  a  woman  and  the  worry  of  another  house- 
hold seemed  unbearable  to  him.  Besides,  what  could 
he  do  with  Jeanne?  The  presence  of  his  mistress 
would  prevent  his  being  able  to  go  back  to  Michel- 
ine.  And  now  he  felt  that  his  only  hope  of  safety  was 
in  Micheline's  love  for  him. 

But  first  of  all  he  must  go  and  see  if  Herzog  had  re- 
turned, and  ascertain  the  real  facts  of  the  position  in  re- 
gard to  the  Universal  Credit  Company. 

Herzog  occupied  a  little  house  on  the  Boulevard 
Haussmann,  which  he  had  hired  furnished  from  some 
1 291] 


GEORGES    OHNET 

Americans.  The  loud  luxury  of  the  Yankees  had  not 
frightened  him.  On  the  contrary,  he  held  that  the  gay 
colors  of  the  furniture  and  the  glitter  of  the  gilded  cor- 
nices were  bound  to  have  a  fascination  for  prospective 
shareholders.  Suzanne  had  reserved  a  little  corner  for 
herself,  modestly  hung  with  muslin  and  furnished  with 
simple  taste,  which  was  a  great  contrast  to  the  loud 
appearance  of  the  other  part  of  the  house. 

On  arriving,  Serge  found  a  stableman  washing  a  vic- 
toria. Herzog  had  returned.  The  Prince  quietly  went 
up  the  steps,  and  had  himself  announced. 

The  financier  was  sitting  in  his  study  by  the  window, 
looking  through  the  newspapers.  When  Serge  entered 
he  rose.  The  two  men  stood  facing  each  other  for  a 
moment.  The  Prince  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"How  is  it  that  you  have  kept  me  without  news  dur- 
ing your  absence?"  asked  he,  harshly. 

"Because,"  replied  Herzog,  calmly,  "the  only  news 
I  had  was  not  good  news." 

"At  least  I  should  have  known  it." 

"Would  the  result  of  the  operation  have  been  differ- 
ent?" 

"You  have  led  me  like  a  child  in  this  affair,"  Serge 
continued,  becoming  animated.  "  I  did  not  know  where 
I  was  going.  You  made  me  promises,  how  have  you 
kept  them?" 

"As  I  was  able,"  quietly  answered  Herzog.  "Play 
has  its  chances.  One  seeks  Austerlitz  and  finds  Wa- 
terloo." 

"But,"  cried  the  Prince,  angrily,  "the  shares  which 
you  sold  ought  not  to  have  gone  out  of  your  hands." 
[292] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"You  believed  that?"  retorted  the  financier,  ironi- 
cally. "If  they  ought  not  to  have  gone  out  of  my  hands 
it  was  hardly  worth  while  putting  them  into  them." 

"In  short,"  said  Panine,  eager  to  find  some  respon- 
sible party  on  whom  he  could  pour  out  all  the  bitterness 
of  his  misfortune,  "you  took  a  mean  advantage  of 
me." 

"Good!  I  expected  you  to  say  that!"  returned  Her- 
zog,  smiling.  "If  the  business  had  succeeded,  you 
would  have  accepted  your  share  of  the  spoil  without  any 
scruples,  and  would  have  felt  ready  to  crown  me.  It  has 
failed;  you  are  trying  to  get  out  of  the  responsibility, 
and  are  on  the  point  of  treating  me  as  if  I  were  a  swin- 
dler. Still,  the  affair  would  not  have  been  more  honest 
in  the  first  instance  than  in  the  second,  but  success 
embellishes  everything." 

Serge  looked  hard  at  Herzog. 

"What  is  there  to  prove,"  replied  he,  "that  this  spec- 
ulation, which  brings  ruin  and  loss  to  me,  does  not  en- 
rich you?" 

"Ungrateful  fellow!"  observed  the  financier,  ironi- 
cally, "you  suspect  me!" 

"Of  having  robbed  me!"  cried  Serge,  in  a  rage. 
"Why  not?" 

Herzog,  for  a  moment,  lost  his  temper  and  turned 
red  in  the  face.  He  seized  Panine  violently  by  the  arm, 
and  said: 

"Gently,  Prince;  whatever  insults  you  heap  upon 
me  must  be  shared  by  you.  You  are  my  partner." 

"Scoundrel!"  yelled  Panine,  exasperated  at  being 
held  by  Herzog. 

[293] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"  Personalities,"  said  the  financier,  in  a  jesting  tone. 
"Then  I  take  my  leave!" 

And  loosing  his  hold  of  the  Prince,  he  went  toward 
the  door. 

Serge  sprang  after  him,  exclaiming: 

"You  shall  not  leave  this  room  until  you  have  given 
me  the  means  of  rectifying  this  disaster." 

"Then  let  us  talk  sensibly,  as  boon  companions," 
said  Herzog.  "I  know  of  a  marvellous  move  by  which 
we  can  get  out  of  the  difficulty.  Let  us  boldly  call  a 
general  meeting.  I  will  explain  the  thing,  and  amaze 
everybody.  We  shall  get  a  vote  of  confidence  for  the 
past,  with  funds  for  the  future.  We  shall  be  as  white  as 
snow,  and  the  game  is  played.  Are  you  in  with  me?" 

"Enough,"  replied  the  Prince,  intensely  disgusted. 
"It  does  not  suit  me  to  do  a  yet  more  shameful  thing  in 
order  to  get  out  of  this  trouble.  It  is  no  use  arguing 
further;  we  are  lost." 

"Only  the  weak  allow  themselves  to  be  lost!"  ex- 
claimed the  financier.  "The  strong  defend  themselves. 
You  may  give  in  if  you  like;  I  won't.  Three  times  have 
I  been  ruined  and  three  times  have  I  risen  again.  My 
head  is  good!  I  am  down  now.  I  shall  rise  again,  and 
when  I  am  well  off,  and  have  a  few  millions  to  spare,  I 
will  settle  old  debts.  Everybody  will  be  astonished  be- 
cause they  won't  expect  it,  and  I  shall  be  more  thought 
of  than  if  I  had  paid  up  at  the  time." 

"And  if  you  are  not  allowed  to  go  free ?"  asked  Serge. 
"What  if  they  arrest  you?" 

"I  shall  be  in  Aix-la-Chapelle  to-night,"  said  Her- 
zog. "From  there  I  shall  treat  with  the  shareholders 
[294] 


SERGE  PANINE 

of  the  Universal  Credit.    People  judge  things  better  at 
a  distance.    Are  you  coming  with  me  ?" 

"No,"  replied  Serge,  in  a  low  voice. 

"You  are  wrong.  Fortune  is  capricious,  and  in  six 
months  we  may  be  richer  than  we  ever  have  been.  But 
as  you  have  decided,  let  me  give  you  a  piece  of  advice 
which  will  be  worth  the  money  you  have  lost.  Confess 
all  to  your  wife;  she  can  get  you  out  of  this  difficulty." 

The  financier  held  out  a  hand  to  Serge  which  he  did 
not  take. 

"Ah!  pride!"  murmured  Herzog.  "After  all  it  is 
your  right — It  is  you  who  pay!" 

Without  answering  a  word  the  Prince  went  out. 

At  that  same  hour,  Madame  Desvarennes,  tired  by 
long  waiting,  was  pacing  up  and  down  her  little  draw- 
ing-room. A  door  opened  and  Marechal,  the  long- 
looked  for  messenger,  appeared.  He  had  been  to 
Cayrol's,  but  could  not  see  him.  The  banker,  who  had 
shut  himself  up  in  his  private  office  where  he  had 
worked  all  night,  had  given  orders  that  no  one  should 
interrupt  him.  And  as  Madame  Desvarennes  seemed 
to  have  a  question  on  her  lips  which  she  dared  not 
utter,  Marechal  added  that  nothing  unusual  seemed  to 
have  happened  at  the  house. 

But  as  the  mistress  was  thanking  her  secretary,  the 
great  gate  swung  on  its  hinges,  and  a  carriage  rolled 
into  the  courtyard.  Marechal  flew  to  the  window,  and 
uttered  one  word, 

"Cayrol!" 

Madame  Desvarennes  motioned  to  him  to  leave  her, 
and  the  banker  appeared  on  the  threshold. 
[295] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

At  a  glance  the  mistress  saw  the  ravages  which  the 
terrible  night  he  had  passed  through  had  caused.  Yes- 
terday, the  banker  was  rosy,  firm,  and  upright  as  an 
oak,  now  he  was  bent,  and  withered  like  an  old  man. 
His  hair  had  become  gray  about  the  temples,  as  if 
scorched  by  his  burning  thoughts.  He  was  only  the 
shadow  of  himself. 

Madame  Desvarennes  advanced  toward  him,  and  in 
one  word  asked  a  world  of  questions. 

"Well?"  she  said. 

Cayrol,  gloomy  and  fierce,  raised  his  eyes  to  the  mis- 
tress, and  answered : 

"Nothing!" 

"Did  he  not  come?" 

"Yes,  he  came.  But  I  had  not  the  necessary  energy 
to  kill  him.  I  thought  it  was  an  easier  matter  to  become 
a  murderer.  And  you  thought  so  too,  eh?" 

"Cayrol!"  cried  Madame  Desvarennes,  shuddering, 
and  troubled  to  find  that  she  had  been  so  easily  under- 
stood by  him  whom  she  had  armed  on  her  behalf. 

"The  opportunity  was  a  rare  one,  though,"  contin- 
ued Cayrol,  getting  excited.  "Fancy;  I  found  them 
together  under  my  own  roof.  The  law  allowed  me,  if 
not  the  actual  right  to  kill  them,  at  least  an  excuse  if  I 
did  so.  Well,  at  the  decisive  moment,  when  I  ought  to 
have  struck  the  blow,  my  heart  failed  me.  He  lives, 
and  Jeanne  loves  him." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"Get  rid  of  him  in  another  way,"  answered  Cayrol. 
"I  had  only  two  ways  of  killing  him.  One  was  to 
[296] 


SERGE  PANINE 

catch  him  in  my  own  house,  the  other  to  call  him  out. 
My  will  failed  me  in  the  one  case;  my  want  of  skill 
would  fail  me  in  the  other.  I  will  not  fight  Serge.  Not 
because  I  fear  death,  for  my  life  is  blighted,  and  I  don't 
value  it;  but  if  I  were  dead,  Jeanne  would  belong  to 
him,  and  I  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  that  even  in 
death.  I  must  separate  them  forever." 

"And  how?" 

"By  forcing  him  to  disappear." 

"And  if  he  refuse?" 

Cayrol  shook  his  head  menacingly,  and  exclaimed : 

"I  defy  him!  If  he  resist,  I  will  bring  him  before 
the  assizes!" 

"You?"  said  Madame  Desvarennes,  going  nearer  to 
Cayrol. 

"Yes,  I!"  answered  the  banker,  with  energy. 

"Wretched  man!  And  my  daughter?"  cried  the 
mistress.  "Think  well  what  you  are  saying!  You 
would  disgrace  me  and  mine." 

"Am  I  not  dishonored  myself?"  asked  Cayrol. 
"Your  son-in-law  is  a  robber,  who  has  defiled  my  home 
and  robbed  my  safe." 

"An  honest  man  does  not  seek  to  revenge  himself 
after  the  manner  you  suggest,"  said  the  mistress, 
gravely. 

"An  honest  man  defends  himself  as  he  can.  I  am 
not  a  knight.  I  am  only  a  financier.  Money  is  my 
weapon.  The  Prince  has  stolen  from  me.  I  will  have 
him  sentenced  as  a  thief." 

Madame  Desvarennes  frowned. 

"Make  out  your  account.    I  will  pay  it." 
[297] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"Will  you  also  pay  me  for  my  lost  happiness?"  cried 
the  banker,  exasperated.  "Should  I  not  rather  have 
chosen  to  be  ruined  than  be  betrayed  as  I  am?  You 
can  never  repair  the  wrong  he  has  done  me.  And  then 
I  am  suffering  so,  I  must  have  my  revenge!" 

"Ah!  fool  that  you  are,"  replied  Madame  Desva- 
rennes.  "The  guilty  will  not  feel  your  blows,  but  the 
innocent.  When  my  daughter  and  I  are  in  despair  will 
you  be  less  unhappy!  Oh!  Cayrol,  take  heed  that  you 
lose  not  in  dignity  what  you  gain  in  revenge.  The  less 
one  is  respected  by  others  the  more  one  must  respect 
one's  self.  Contempt  and  silence  elevate  the  victim, 
while  rage  and  hatred  make  him  descend  to  the  level  of 
those  who  have  outraged  him." 

"Let  people  judge  me  as  they  please.  I  care  only  for 
myself!  I  am  a  vulgar  soul,  and  have  a  low  mind — - 
anything  you  like.  But  the  idea  that  that  woman  be- 
longs to  another  drives  me  mad.  I  ought  to  hate  her, 
but,  notwithstanding  everything,  I  cannot  live  without 
her.  If  she  will  come  back  to  me  I  will  forgive  her.  It 
is  ignoble!  I  feel  it,  but  it  is  too  strong  for  me.  I 
adore  her!" 

Before  that  blind  love  Madame  Desvarennes  shud- 
dered. She  thought  of  Micheline  who  loved  Serge  as 
Cayrol  loved  Jeanne. 

"Suppose  she  chooses  to  go  away  with  Serge,"  said 
the  mistress  to  herself.  In  a  moment  she  saw  the  house 
abandoned,  Micheline  and  Serge  in  foreign  lands,  and 
she  alone  in  the  midst  of  her  overthrown  happiness,  dy- 
ing of  sadness  and  regrets.  She  made  a  last  effort  to 
move  Cayrol. 

[298] 


SERGE  PANINE 

"Come,  must  I  appeal  in  vain?  Can  you  forget  that 
I  was  a  sure  and  devoted  friend  to  you,  and  that  you 
owe  your  fortune  to  me  ?  You  are  a  good  man  and  will 
not  forget  the  past.  You  have  been  outraged  and  have 
the  right  of  seeking  revenge,  but  think  that  in  carrying 
it  out  you  will  hurt  two  women  who  have  never  done 
you  any  harm.  Be  generous!  Be  just!  Spare  us!" 

Cayrol  remained  silent;  his  face  did  not  relax.  After 
a  moment  he  said : 

"You  see  how  low  I  have  fallen,  by  not  yielding  at 
once  to  your  supplications!  Friendship,  gratitude, 
generosity,  all  the  good  feelings  I  had,  have  been  con- 
sumed by  this  execrable  love.  There  is  nothing  left  but 
love  for  her.  For  her,  I  forget  everything.  I  degrade 
and  debase  myself.  And  what  is  worse  than  all,  is  that 
I  know  all  this  and  yet  I  cannot  help  myself." 

"Miserable  man!"  murmured  the  mistress. 

"Oh!  most  miserable,,"  sobbed  Cayrol,  falling  into 
an  armchair. 

Madame  Desvarennes  approached  him,  and  quietly 
placed  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"Cayrol,  you  are  weeping?    Then,  forgive." 

The  banker  arose  and,  with  lowering  brow,  said: 

"No!  my  resolution  is  irrevocable.  I  wish  to  place 
a  world  between  Jeanne  and  Serge.  If  he  has  not  gone 
away  by  to-night  my  complaint  will  be  lodged  in  the 
courts  of  justice." 

Madame  Desvarennes  no  longer  persisted.  She  saw 
that  the  husband's  heart  was  permanently  closed. 

"  It  is  well.  I  thank  you  for  having  warned  me.  You 
might  have  taken  action  without  doing  so.  Good-by, 
[299] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

Cayrol.    I  leave  your  conscience  to  judge  between  you 
and  me." 

The  banker  bowed,  and  murmured: 

"Good-by!" 

And  with  a  heavy  step,  almost  tottering,  he  went  out. 

The  sun  had  risen,  and  lit  up  the  trees  in  the  garden. 
Nature  seemed  to  be  making  holiday.  The  flowers  per- 
fumed the  air,  and  in  the  deep  blue  sky  swallows  were 
flying  to  and  fro.  This  earthly  joy  exasperated  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes.  She  would  have  liked  the  world 
to  be  in  mourning.  She  closed  the  window  hastily,  and 
remained  lost  in  her  own  reflections. 

So  everything  was  over!  The  great  prosperity,  the 
honor  of  the  house,  everything  was  foundering  in  a  mo- 
ment. Even  her  daughter  might  escape  from  her,  and 
follow  the  infamous  husband  whom  she  adored  in  spite 
of  his  faults — perhaps  because  of  his  very  faults — and 
might  drag  on  a  weary  existence  in  a  strange  land,  which 
would  terminate  in  death. 

For  that  sweet  and  delicate  child  could  not  live  with- 
out material  comforts  and  mental  ease,  and  her  hus- 
band was  doomed  to  go  on  from  bad  to  worse,  and 
would  drag  her  down  with  him !  The  mistress  pictured 
her  daughter,  that  child  whom  she  had  brought  up  with 
the  tenderest  care,  dying  on  a  pallet,  and  the  husband, 
odious  to  the  last,  refusing  her  admission  to  the  room 
where  Micheline  was  in  agony. 

A  fearful  feeling  of  anger  overcame  her.  Her  moth- 
erly love  gained  the  mastery,  and  in  the  silence  of  the 
room  she  roared  out  these  words: 

"That  shall  not  be!" 

[300] 


SERGE    PANINE 

The  opening  of  the  door  recalled  her  to  her  senses, 
and  she  rose.  It  was  Marechal,  greatly  agitated.  After 
Cayrol's  arrival,  not  knowing  what  to  do,  he  had  gone 
to  the  Universal  Credit  Company,  and  there,  to  his  as- 
tonishment, had  found  the  offices  closed.  He  had  heard 
from  the  porter,  one  of  those  superb  personages  dressed 
in  blue  and  red  cloth,  who  were  so  important  in  the  eyes 
of  the  shareholders,  that  the  evening  before,  owing  to 
the  complaint  of  a  director,  the  police  had  entered  the 
offices,  and  taken  the  books  away,  and  that  the  official 
seal  had  been  placed  on  the  doors.  Marechal,  much 
alarmed,  had  hastened  back  to  Madame  Desvarennes 
to  apprise  her  of  the  fact.  It  was  evidently  necessary 
to  take  immediate  steps  to  meet  this  new  compli- 
cation. Was  this  indeed  the  beginning  of  legal  pro- 
ceedings? And  if  so  how  would  the  Prince  come  out 
of  it? 

Madame  Desvarennes  listened  to  Marechal,  without 
uttering  a  word.  Events  were  hurrying  on  even  quick- 
er than  she  had  dreaded.  The  fears  of  the  interested 
shareholders  outran  even  the  hatred  of  Cayrol.  What 
would  the  judges  call  Herzog's  underhand  dealings? 
Would  it  be  embezzlement  ?  Or  forgery  ?  Would  they 
come  and  arrest  the  Prince  at  her  house  ?  The  house 
of  Desvarennes,  which  had  never  received  a  visit  from 
a  sheriff's  officer,  was  it  to  be  disgraced  now  by  the 
presence  of  the  police? 

The  mistress,  in  that  fatal  hour,  became  herself 
again.  The  strong-minded  woman  of  old  reappeared. 
Marechal  was  more  alarmed  at  this  sudden  vigor  than 
he  had  been  at  her  late  depression.  When  he  saw  Ma- 


GEORGES    OHNET 

dame  Desvarennes  going  toward  the  door,  he  made  an 
effort  to  detain  her. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Madame?"  he  inquired,  with 
anxiety. 

The  mistress  gave  him  a  look  that  terrified  him,  and 
answered : 

"I  am  going  to  square  accounts  with  the  Prince." 

And,  passing  through  the  door  leading  to  the  little 
staircase,  Madame  Desvarennes  went  up  to  her  son-in- 
law's  rooms. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  MOTHER'S  REVENGE 

N  leaving  Herzog,  Serge  had  turned 
his  steps  toward  the  Rue  Saint-Dom- 
inique. He  had  delayed  the  moment 
of  going  home  as  long  as  possible,  but 
the  streets  were  beginning  to  be  crowd- 
ed. He  might  meet  some  people  of 
his  acquaintance.  He  resolved  to  face 
what  ever  reception  was  awaiting  him- 
-On  the  way,  he  was  planning  what  course  he  should 
adopt  to  bring  about  a  reconciliation  with  his  redoubt- 
able mother-in-law.  He  was  no  longer  proud,  but  felt 
quite  broken  down.  Only  Madame  Desvarennes  could 
put  him  on  his  feet  again;  and,  as  cowardly  in  trouble 
as  he  had  been  insolent  in  prosperity,  he  accepted  be- 
forehand all  that  she  might  impose  upon  him;  all, 
provided  that  she  would  cover  him  with  her  protec- 
tion. 

He  was  frightened,  not  knowing  how  deep  Herzog 
had  led  him  in  the  mire.  His  moral  sense  had  disap- 
peared, but  he  had  a  vague  instinct  of  the  danger  he 
had  incurred.  The  financier's  last  words  came  to  his 
mind:  " Confess  all  to  your  wife;  she  can  get  you  out 
of  this  difficulty!"  He  understood  the  meaning  of 
them,  and  resolved  to  follow  the  advice.  Micheline 

[303] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

loved  him.  In  appealing  to  her  heart,  deeply  wounded 
as  it  was,  he  would  have  in  her  an  ally,  and  he  had  long 
known  that  Madame  Desvarennes  could  not  oppose  her 
daughter  in  anything. 

He  entered  the  house  through  the  back  garden  gate, 
and  regained  his  room  without  making  the  slightest 
noise.  He  dreaded  meeting  Madame  Desvarennes 
before  seeing  Micheline.  First  he  changed  his  attire; 
he  had  walked  about  Paris  in  evening  clothes.  Looking 
in  the  glass  he  was  surprised  at  the  alteration  in  his 
features.  Was  his  beauty  going  too  ?  What  would  be- 
come of  him  if  he  failed  to  please.  And,  like  an  actor 
who  is  about  to  play  an  important  part,  he  paid  great 
attention  to  the  making  up  of  his  face.  He  wished  once 
more  to  captivate  his  wife,  as  his  safety  depended  on 
the  impression  he  was  about  to  make  on  her.  At  last, 
satisfied  with  himself,  he  tried  to  look  smiling,  and  went 
to  his  wife's  room. 

Micheline  was  up. 

At  the  sight  of  Serge  she  could  not  suppress  an  ex- 
clamation of  surprise.  It  was  a  long  time  since  he  had 
discontinued  these  familiar  visits.  The  presence  of 
her  beloved  one  in  that  room,  which  had  seemed  so 
empty  when  he  was  not  there,  made  her  feel  happy, 
and  she  went  to  him  with  a  smile,  holding  out  her 
hand.  Serge  drew  her  gently  toward  him  and  kissed 
her  hair. 

"Up,  already,  dear  child,"  said  he,  affectionately. 

"I  have  scarcely  slept,"  answered  Micheline.  "I 
was  so  anxious.  I  sat  up  for  you  part  of  the  night.  I 
had  left  you  without  saying  good-night.  It  was  the 
[304] 


SERGE  PANINE 

first  time  it  had  occurred,  and  I  wanted  to  beg  your 
pardon.  But  you  came  in  very  late " 

"Micheline,  it  is  I  who  am  ungrateful,"  interrupted 
Panine,  making  the  young  wife  sit  down  beside  him. 
"It  is  I  who  must  ask  you  to  be  indulgent." 

"Serge!  I  beg  of  you!"  said  the  young  wife,  taking 
both  his  hands.  "All  is  forgotten.  I  would  not  re- 
proach you,  I  love  you  so  much!" 

Micheline's  face  beamed  with  joy,  and  tears  filled 
her  eyes. 

"You  are  weeping,"  said  Panine.  "Ah!  I  feel  the 
weight  of  my  wrongs  toward  you.  I  see  how  deserving 
you  are  of  respect  and  affection.  I  feel  unworthy,  and 
would  kneel  before  you  to  say  how  I  regret  all  the  anxi- 
eties I  have  caused  you,  and  that  my  only  desire  in  the 
*  future  will  be  to  make  you  forget  them." 

"Oh!  speak  on!  speak  on!"  cried  Micheline,  with 
delight.  "What  happiness  to  hear  you  say  such  sweet 
words!  Open  your  heart  to  me!  You  know  I  would  die 
to  please  you.  If  you  have  any  anxieties  or  annoyances 
confide  in  me.  I  can  relieve  them.  Who  could  resist 
me  when  you  are  in  question?" 

"I  have  none,  Micheline,"  answered  Serge,  with 
the  constrained  manner  of  a  man  who  is  feigning. 
"Nothing  but  the  regret  of  not  having  lived  more 
for  you." 

"Is  the  future  not  in  store  for  us?"  said  the  young 
wife,  looking  lovingly  at  him. 

The  Prince  shook  his  head,  saying: 

"Who  can  answer  for  the  future?" 

Micheline  came  closer  to  her  husband,  not  quite  un- 
20  [  305  ] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

derstanding  what  Serge  meant,  but  her  mind  was  on  the 
alert,  and  in  an  alarmed  tone,  she  resumed : 

"What  strange  words  you  are  uttering?  Are  we  not 
both  young?  And,  if  you  like,  is  there  not  much  happi- 
ness in  store  for  us?" 

And  she  clung  to  him.    Serge  turned  away. 

"Oh,  stay,"  she  murmured,  again  putting  her  arms 
round  him.  "You  are  so  truly  mine  at  this  moment!" 

Panine  saw  that  the  opportunity  for  confessing  all 
had  come.  He  was  able  to  bring  tears  to  his  eyes,  and 
went  toward  the  window  as  if  to  hide  his  emotion. 
Micheline  followed  him,  and,  in  an  eager  tone,  con- 
tinued : 

"Ah!  I  knew  you  were  hiding  something.  You  are 
unhappy  or  in  pain;  threatened  perhaps?  Ah!  if  you 
love  me,  tell  me  the  truth!" 

"Well,  yes!  It  is  true,  I  am  threatened.  I  am  suffer- 
ing and  unhappy!  But  don't  expect  a  confession  from 
me.  I  should  blush  to  make  it.  But,  thank  Heaven,  if 
I  cannot  extricate  myself  from  the  difficulty  in  which  I 
am  placed  through  my  own  folly  and  imprudence — 
there  is  yet  another  way  out  of  it." 

"Serge!  you  would  kill  yourself!"  cried  Micheline, 
terrified  at  the  gesture  Panine  had  made.  "What 
would  become  of  me  then?  But  what  is  there  that  is 
so  hard  to  explain?  And  to  whom  should  it  be  said?" 

"To  your  mother,"  answered  Serge,  bowing  his 
head. 

"To  my  mother?    Very  well,  I  will  go  to  her.    Oh! 
don't  fear  anything.    I  can  defend  you,  and  to  strike 
you  she  will  first  have  to  attack  me." 
[306] 


SERGE  PANINE 

Serge  put  his  arms  round  Micheline,  and  with  a  kiss, 
the  hypocrite  inspired  her  whom  he  entrusted  with  his 
safety  with  indomitable  courage. 

"Wait  for  me  here,"  added  the  young  wife,  and  pass- 
ing through  the  little  drawing-room  she  reached  the 
smoking-room. 

She  halted  there  a  moment,  out  of  breath  and  almost 
choked  with  emotion.  The  long  expected  day  had  ar- 
rived. Serge  was  coming  back  to  her.  She  went  on, 
and  as  she  reached  the  door  of  the  stair  leading  to  her 
mother's  rooms,  she  heard  a  light  tap  from  without. 

Greatly  astonished,  she  opened  the  door,  and  sud- 
denly drew  back,  uttering  an  exclamation.  A  woman, 
thickly  veiled,  stood  before  her. 

At  the  sight  of  Micheline  the  stranger  seemed  in- 
clined to  turn  and  fly.  But  overcome  with  jealousy, 
the  young  wife  seized  her  by  the  arm,  dragged  off  her 
veil,  and  recognizing  her,  exclaimed : 

"Jeanne!" 

Madame  Cayrol  approached  Micheline,  and  be- 
seechingly stretched  out  her  hands : 

"Micheline!  don't  think— I  come " 

"Hold  your  tongue!"  cried  Micheline.  "Don't  tell 
me  any  lies!  I  know  all!  You  are  my  husband's 
mistress!" 

Crushed  by  such  a  stroke,  Jeanne  hid  her  face  in  her 
hands  and  moaned : 

'•OGod!" 

"You  must  really  be  bold,"  continued  Micheline,  in 
a  furious  tone,  "to  seek  him  here,  in  my  house,  almost 
in  my  arms!" 

[307] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

Jeanne  drew  herself  up,  blushing  with  shame  and 
grief. 

"Ah!  don't  think,"  she  said,  "that  love  brings  me 
here." 

"What  is  it  then?"  asked  Micheline,  contemptu- 
ously. 

"The  knowledge  of  inevitable  and  pressing  danger 
which  threatens  Serge." 

"A  danger!    Of  what  kind?" 

"Compromised  by  Herzog,  he  is  at  the  mercy  of  my 
husband,  who  has  sworn  to  ruin  him." 

"Your  husband!" 

"Yes,  he  is  his  rival.  If  you  could  ruin  me,  would 
you  not  do  it?"  said  Jeanne. 

"You!"  retorted  Micheline,  passionately.  "Do  you 
think  I  am  going  to  worry  about  you  ?  Serge  is  my  first 
thought.  You  say  you  came  to  warn  him.  What  must 
be  done?" 

"Without  a  moment's  delay  he  must  go  away!" 

A  strange  suspicion  crossed  Micheline's  mind.  She 
approached  Jeanne,  and  looking  earnestly  at  her,  said : 

"He  must  go  away  without  delay,  eh ?  And  it  is  you, 
braving  everything,  without  a  thought  of  the  trouble 
you  leave  behind  you,  who  come  to  warn  him?  Ah! 
you  mean  to  go  with  him?" 

Jeanne  hesitated  a  moment.  Then,  boldly  and  im- 
pudently, defying  and  almost  threatening  the  legiti- 
mate wife : 

"Well,  yes,  I  wish  to!  Enough  of  dissimulation!  I 
love  him!"  she  exclaimed. 

Micheline,  transfigured  by  passion,  strong,  and 
[308] 


SERGE  PANINE 

ready  for  a  struggle,  threw  herself  in  Jeanne's  way, 
with  arms  outstretched,  as  if  to  prevent  her  going  to 
Serge. 

"Well!"  she  said;  "try  to  take  him  from  me!" 

"Take  him  from  you!"  answered  Jeanne,  laughing 
like  a  mad  woman.  "To  whom  does  he  most  belong? 
To  the  woman  who  was  as  ignorant  of  his  love  as  she 
was  of  his  danger;  who  could  do  nothing  toward  his 
happiness,  and  can  do  nothing  for  his  safety?  Or  to 
the  mistress  who  has  sacrificed  her  honor  to  please  him 
and  risks  her  safety  to  save  him?" 

"Ah!  wretch!"  cried  Micheline,  "to  invoke  your  in- 
famy as  a  right!" 

"Which  of  us  has  taken  him  from  the  other?"  con- 
tinued Jeanne,  forgetting  respect,  modesty,  everything. 
"Do  you  know  that  he  loved  me  before  he  married  you ? 
Do  you  know  that  he  abandoned  me  for  you — for  your 
money,  I  should  say?  Now,  do  you  wish  to  weigh 
what  I  have  suffered  with  what  you  suffer?  Shall  we 
make  out  a  balance-sheet  of  our  tears  ?  Then,  you  will 
be  able  to  tell  which  of  us  he  has  loved  more,  and  to 
whom  he  really  belongs." 

Micheline  had  listened  to  this  furious  address  almost 
in  a  state  of  stupor,  and  replied,  vehemently: 

"What  matter  who  triumphs  if  his  ruin  is  certain. 
Selfish  creatures  that  we  are,  instead  of  disputing  about 
his  love,  let  us  unite  in  saving  him !  You  say  he  must 
go  away!  But  flight  is  surely  an  admission  of  guilt — 
humiliation  and  obscurity  in  a  strange  land.  And  that 
is  what  you  advise,  because  you  hope  to  share  that  mis- 
erable existence  with,  him.  You  are  urging  him,  on  to 
[309) 


GEORGES  OHNET 

dishonor.  His  fate  is  in  the  hands  of  a  man  who  adores 
you,  who  would  sacrifice  everything  for  you,  as  I  would 
for  Serge,  and  yet  you  have  not  thrown  yourself  at  his 
feet !  You  have  not  offered  your  life  as  the  price  of  your 
lover's!  And  you  say  that  you  love  him!" 

"Ah!"  stammered  Jeanne,  distracted.  "You  wish 
me  to  save  him  for  you!" 

"Is  that  the  cry  of  your  heart?"  said  Micheline,  with 
crushing  disdain.  "Well,  see  what  I  am  ready  to  do. 
If,  to  remove  your  jealous  fears,  it  is  necessary  to  sac- 
rifice myself,  I  swear  to  you  that  if  Serge  be  saved,  he 
shall  be  perfectly  free,  and  I  will  never  see  him  again!" 

Micheline,  chaste  and  calm,  with  hands  raised  to 
Heaven,  seemed  to  grow  taller  and  nobler.  Jeanne, 
trembling  and  overpowered,  looked  at  her  rival  with  a 
painful  effort,  and  murmured,  softly: 

"Would  you  do  that?" 

"I  would  do  more!"  said  the  lawful  wife,  bending 
before  the  mistress.  "I  ought  to  hate  you,  and  I  kneel 
at  your  feet  and  beseech  you  to  listen  to  me.  Do  what 
I  ask  you  and  I  will  forgive  you  and  bless  you.  Do  not 
hesitate!  Follow  me!  Let  us  throw  ourselves  at  the 
feet  of  him  whom  you  have  outraged.  His  generosity 
cannot  be  less  than  ours,  and  to  us,  who  sacrifice  our 
love,  he  will  not  be  able  to  refuse  to  sacrifice  his  ven- 
geance." 

This  greatness  and  goodness  awaked  feelings  in 
Jeanne's  heart  which  she  thought  dead.  She  was  silent 
for  a  moment  and  then  her  breast  heaved  with  convul- 
sive sobs,  and  she  fell  helpless  into  the  arms  which  Mi- 
cheline, full  of  pity,  held  out  to  her. 


SERGE  PANINE 

"Forgive  me,"  moaned  the  unhappy  woman.  "1  am 
conquered.  Your  rights  are  sacred,  and  you  have  just 
made  them  still  more  so.  Keep  Serge :  with  you  he  will 
once  more  become  honest  and  happy,  because,  if  your 
love  is  not  greater  than  mine,  it  is  nobler  and  purer." 

The  two  women  went  hand  in  hand  to  try  to  save 
the  man  whom  they  both  adored. 

All  this  time  Serge  remained  in  the  little  drawing- 
room  enjoying  the  hope  of  returning  peace.  It  was 
sweet  to  him,  after  the  troubles  he  had  gone  through. 
He  had  not  the  slightest  suspicion  of  the  scene  in  the 
adjoining  room  between  Jeanne  and  Micheline.  The 
fond  heroism  of  his  wife  and  the  self-denial  of  his  mis- 
tress were  unknown  to  him. 

Time  was  passing.  At  least  an  hour  had  sped  since 
Micheline  left  him  to  go  to  her  mother,  and  Serge  was 
beginning  to  think  that  the  interview  was  very  long, 
when  a  light  step  made  him  tremble.  It  came  from  the 
gallery.  He  thought  it  was  Micheline,  and  opening  the 
door,  he  went  to  meet  her. 

He  drew  back  disappointed,  vexed,  and  anxious, 
when  he  found  it  was  Pierre.  The  two  men  had  never 
met  alone  since  that  terrible  night  at  Nice.  Panine  as- 
sumed a  bold  demeanor,  and  returned  Pierre's  firm 
look.  Steadying  his  voice,  he  said : 

"Ah!  is  it  you?" 

"Were  you  not  expecting  me?"  answered  Pierre 
whose  harsh  voice  thrilled  Serge. 

The  Prince  opened  his  mouth  to  speak,  but  Pierre, 
did  not  give  him  time.  In  stern  and  provoking  ac- 
cents, he  continued : 

[3"] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

"I  made  you  a  promise  once;  have  you  forgotten  it? 
I  have  a  good  memory.  You  are  a  villain,  and  I  come 
to  chastise  you!" 

"Pierre!"  exclaimed  the  Prince,  starting  fiercely. 

But  he  suddenly  calmed  himself,  and  added : 

"Leave  me!    I  will  not  listen  to  you!" 

"You  will  have  to,  though!  You  are  a  source  of 
trouble  and  shame  to  the  family  to  which  you  have 
allied  yourself,  and  as  you  have  not  the  courage  to  kill 
yourself,  I  have  come  to  help  you.  You  must  leave 
Paris  to-night,  or  you  will  be  arrested.  We  shall  go  to- 
gether to  Brussels  and  there  we  shall  fight.  If  chance 
favors  you,  you  will  be  at  liberty  to  continue  your  in- 
famies, but  at  any  rate  I  shall  have  done  my  best  to  rid 
two  unfortunate  women  of  your  presence." 

"You  are  mad!"  said  Serge,  sneeringly. 

"Don't  think  so!  And  know  that  I  am  ready  for  any 
emergency.  Come;  must  I  strike  you,  to  give  you 
courage?"  growled  Pierre,  ready  to  suit  the  action  to 
the  word. 

"Ah!  take  care!"  snarled  Serge,  with  an  evil  look. 

And  opening  a  drawer  which  was  close  to  him,  he 
took  out  a  revolver. 

"Thief  first,  then  murderer!"  said  Pierre,  with  a  ter- 
rible laugh.  "Come,  let's  see  you  do  it!" 

And  he  was  going  toward  the  Prince  when  the  door 
opened,  and  Madame  Desvarennes  came  forward. 
Placing  her  hand  on  Pierre's  shoulder,  she  said,  in  that 
commanding  tone  which  few  could  resist: 

"Go;  wait  for  me  in  my  room.    I  wish  it!" 

Pierre  bowed,  and,  without  answering,  went  out. 


SERGE  PANINE 

Serge  had  placed  the  pistol  on  the  table  and  was  wait- 
ing. 

"We  have  to  talk  over  several  matters,"  said  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes,  gravely,  "and  you  know  it." 

"Yes,  Madame,"  answered  Panine,  sadly,  "and,  be- 
lieve me,  no  one  judges  my  conduct  more  severely  than 
I  do." 

The  mistress  could  not  help  looking  surprised. 

"Ah!"  she  said,  with  irony,  "I  did  not  expect  to  find 
you  in  such  a  mood.  You  have  not  accustomed  me  to 
such  humility  and  sweetness.  You  must  be  afraid,  to 
have  arrived  at  that  stage!" 

The  Prince  appeared  not  to  have  understood  the  im- 
plied insult  in  his  mother-in-law's  words.  One  thing 
struck  him,  which  was  that  she  evidently  did  not  expect 
to  find  him  repentant  and  humbled. 

"Micheline  must  have  told  you,"  he  began. 

"I  have  not  seen  my  daughter,"  interrupted  the  mis- 
tress, sharply,  as  if  to  make  him  understand  that  he 
must  depend  solely  upon  himself. 

Ignorant  that  Micheline  had  met  Jeanne  on  her  way 
to  her  mother,  and  had  gone  to  Cayrol,  Serge  thought 
he  was  abandoned  by  his  only  powerful  ally.  He  saw 
that  he  was  lost  and  that  his  feigned  resignation  was 
useless.  Unable  to  control  himself  any  longer,  his  face 
darkened  with  rage. 

"She,  too,  against  me!  Well!  I  will  defend  myself 
alone!" 

Turning  toward  Madame  Desvarennes,  he  added : 

"To  begin  with,  what  do  you  want  with  me?" 

"I  wish  to  ask  you  a  question.     We  business  folk 


GEORGES  OHNET 

when  we  fail,  and  cannot  pay  our  way,  throw  blood  on 
the  blot  and  it  disappears.  You  members  of  the  nobil- 
ity, when  you  are  disgraced,  how  do  you  manage?" 

"If  I  am  not  mistaken,  Madame,"  answered  the 
Prince,  in  a  light  tone,  "you  do  me  the  favor  of  asking 
what  my  intentions  are  for  the  future?  I  will  answer 
you  with  precision.  I  purpose  leaving  to-night  for  Aix- 
la-Chapelle,  where  I  shall  join  my  friend  Herzog.  We 
shall  begin  our  business  again.  My  wife,  on  whose 
good  feelings  I  rely,  will  accompany  me,  notwithstand- 
ing everything." 

And  in  these  last  words  he  put  all  the  venom  of  his 
soul. 

"My  daughter  will  not  leave  me!"  exclaimed  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes. 

"Very  well,  then,  you  can  accompany  her,"  retorted 
Panine.  "That  arrangement  will  suit  me.  Since  my 
troubles  I  have  learned  to  appreciate  domestic  hap- 
piness." 

"Ah!  you  hope  to  play  your  old  games  on  me,"  said 
Madame  Desvarennes.  "You  won't  get  much  out  of 
me.  My  daughter  and  I  with  you— in  the  stream  where 
you  are  going  to  sink ?  Never!" 

"Well,  then,"  cried  Panine,  "what  do  you  expect?" 

A  violent  ring  at  the  front  door  resounded  as  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes  was  about  to  answer,  and  stopped 
the  words  on  her  lips.  This  signal,  which  was  used 
only  on  important  occasions,  sounded  to  Madame  like 
a  funeral  knell.  Serge  frowned,  and  instinctively 
moved  back. 

Marshal  appeared  through  the  half -open  door  with 


SERGE  PANINE 

a  scared  face,  and  silently  handed  Madame  Desva- 
rennes  a  card.  She  glanced  at  it,  turned  pale,  and  said 
to  the  secretary: 

"  Very  well,  let  him  wait ! "  She  threw  the  card  on  the 
table.  Serge  came  forward  and  read : 

"Delbarre,  sheriff's  officer." 

Haggard-looking  and  aghast,  he  turned  to  the  mis- 
tress, as  if  seeking  an  explanation. 

"Well!"  she  observed:  "it  is  clear,  he  has  come  to 
arrest  you." 

Serge  rushed  to  a  cabinet,  and  opening  a  drawer,  took 
forth  some  handfuls  of  gold  and  notes,  which  he 
crammed  into  his  pockets. 

"By  the  back  stairs  I  shall  have  time  to  get  away.  It 
is  my  last  chance!  Keep  the  man  for  five  minutes 
only." 

"And  if  the  door  is  guarded?"  asked  Madame  Des- 
varennes. 

Serge  remained  abject  before  her.  He  felt  himself 
enclosed  in  a  ring  which  he  could  not  break  through. 

"One  may  be  prosecuted  without  being  condemned," 
he  gasped.  "You  will  use  your  influence,  I  know,  and 
you  will  get  me  out  of  this  mess.  I  shall  be  grateful  to 
you  for  ever,  and  will  do  anything  you  like!  But  don't 
leave  me,  it  would  be  cowardly!" 

He  trembled,  as  he  thus  besought  her  distractedly. 

"The  son-in-law  of  Madame  Desvarennes  does  not 
go  before  the  Assize  Courts  even  to  be  acquitted,"  said 
she,  with  a  firm  voice. 

"What  would  you  have  me  do?"  cried  Serge,  pas- 
sionately. 

[315] 


GEORGES  OHNET 

Madame  Desvarennes  did  not  answer,  but  pointed  to 
the  revolver  on  the  table. 

"Kill  myself?  Ah!  no;  that  would  be  giving  you 
too  much  pleasure." 

And  he  gave  the  weapon  a  push,  so  that  it  rolled  close 
to  Madame  Desvarennes. 

"Ah!  wretch!"  cried  she,  giving  way  to  her  sup- 
pressed rage.  "You  are  not  even  a  Panine!  The  Pa- 
nines  knew  how  to  die." 

"I  have  not  time  to  act  a  melodrama  with  you," 
snarled  Serge.  "I  am  going  to  try  to  save  myself." 

And  he  took  a  step  toward  the  door. 

The  mistress  seized  the  revolver,  and  threw  herself 
before  him. 

"You  shall  not  go  out!"  she  cried. 

"Are  you  mad?"  he  exclaimed,  gnashing  his  teeth. 

"You  shall  not  go  out!"  repeated  the  mistress,  with 
flashing  eyes. 

"We  shall  see!" 

And  with  a  strong  arm  he  seized  Madame  Desva- 
rennes, and  threw  her  aside. 

The  mistress  became  livid.  Serge  had  his  hand  on 
the  handle  of  the  door.  He  was  about  to  escape.  Ma- 
dame Desvarennes's  arm  was  stretched  forth. 

A  shot  made  the  windows  rattle;  the  weapon  fell 
from  her  hand,  having  done  its  work  and,  amid  the 
smoke,  a  body  dropped  heavily  on  the  carpet,  which 
was  soon  dyed  with  blood. 

At  the  same  moment,  the  door  opened,  and  Michel- 
ine  entered,  holding  in  her  hand  the  fatal  receipt  which 
she  had  just  wrung  from  Cayrol.  The  young  wife  ut- 


SERGE  PANINE 

tered  a  heartrending  cry,  and  fell  senseless  on  Serge's 
body. 

Behind  Micheline  came  the  officer  and  Marechal. 
The  secretary  exchanged  looks  with  the  mistress,  who 
was  lifting  her  fainting  daughter  and  clasping  her  in  her 
arms.  He  understood  all. 

Turning  toward  his  companion,  he  said : 

"Alas!  sir,  here  is  a  sad  matter!  The  Prince,  on 
hearing  that  you  had  come,  took  fright,  although  his 
fault  was  not  very  serious,  and  has  shot  himself." 

The  officer  bowed  respectfully  to  the  mistress,  who 
was  bending  over  Micheline. 

"Please  to  withdraw,  Madame.  You  have  already 
suffered  too  much,"  said  he.  "I  understand  your  le- 
gitimate grief.  If  I  need  any  information,  this  gentle- 
man will  give  it  to  me." 

Madame  Desvarennes  arose,  and,  without  bending 
under  the  burden,  she  bore  away  on  her  bosom  her 
daughter,  regained. 


y 


